Death Mettle. That’s some Punderdome 3000 level shit right there! Amirite?!
What I’m saying is, gird your loins, y’all.
Y’see, in the aftermath of last week’s laughfest about the movie Ghost and the experience of death, Paul pointed out that there’s a deep vein of pop culture death to be mined when it comes to the subject of death…
A search of apoplectic.me for the word “memory” comes up with 50 hits – almost a quarter of the posts on the blog. Hardly surprising, when one thinks that in the weeks following The Event, I couldn’t remember my age, where I was, who the person in the chair next to my hospital bed was, or whether or not I was the Vice President of the United States.
Eventually, memories come back. Even now, Beth notices that my memories of thirty or more years ago seem to be more readily accessible than those from this week. Maybe you find the same thing. Continue reading My Name is Joe – Pt. 1→
Interested in Nerd Bait? Before digging into this week’s post, find out how The Wee Mermannie got the girl – deleted scenes from our Book Festival Gig are part of the bonus materials included in the first issue of the fabulous FREAK Circus!
The beautiful paperback artefact is here. The electronic version that includes the unexpurgated prose version of The Tail of The Wee Mermannie is here.
Right. Now. Back to the blog.
Last Monday, I noted neuroscientist David Eagleman’s remark that the idea that we are unitary people over time is merely an illusion of continuity.
The people each of us individually are at 10, 30, 40, “share the same name and some of the same memories, but we are quite different as a person.”
During the intervening week, I wrote a short story about a man who may – or may not – have lived a succession of quite different lives. Yet there are common themes in those lives. For example, in each case, the character’s father disappears from the scene in his early years.
It wasn’t until I was reading a passage in Robert Penn Warren’s Pulitzer-prize winning novel All the King’s Men last night that I realised that my fiction had been taking a sideways look at Eagleman’s theme…. Continue reading To a Tee→
Last week’s post, The Man Don’t Give a ****, kicked off with a visit to the new James Bond movie, SPECTRE, before running off on a Brosnan-in-a-tank rampage through British foreign policy. But really, what I wanted to post was more in the vein of a classic, Moore-era romp.
It feels like seeing the stark, terrible beauty of Glencoe in Skyfall serves as easy reference for all of the parts of my life that were coming together to direct me back to Scotland. The Glen eventually served as a major character in a short story I wrote for the first issue of Brain of Forgetting.
Saw #SPECTRE tonight. Here’s the review. (Spoiler alert!) A lot of things happened. In no particular order. It was pretty. 2 stars.
It’s my birthday this week. I’m too old to take birthdays too seriously these days, but there is a certain frisson added to the event by the memory of my new age taking so long to bed in, in 2012. Because of the brain attack suffered two weeks later, y’see?
Nerd Bait’s Prof Paul pointed me to an interesting article the other day. But before we get to that, here’s a track he wrote that has apparently been generating a lot of hits in Japan:
We’re not entirely sure whether this is because we’re getting hits from real people, or a Japanese robot. Nor are we quite sure which which would be cooler. (Spoiler: the answer’s at the bottom of the page….)
I’ve mentioned more than once on the blog that I’ve come to believe that one of the big mistakes made by my younger self was to think that everyone else was basically the same as me.
While that might have been a trifle solipsistic, it’s also kind of true. The genetic difference between individual humans today is miniscule — about 0.1%, on average. To a bonobo or chimpanzee, 1.2%. 1.6% to gorillas.
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