Category is: Creativity
How I decided to walk 100 miles across Spain
The long journey to the Camino Frances, and the first couple of days along the way…
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Loved list: 2022 đź’–
Every year, I devour things and love them hard. The ones that stick with me most get shared in my newsletter throughout the year, and the loved list is a collection collaged together from there. In this edition, you’ll find the books and essays that had the most impact on my head and heart as I moved through 2022.
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We had a time, didn’t we?
Somehow it’s been an entire year since I stepped back from For Books’ Sake, the non-profit I founded and ran for over a decade.
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It’s been a year since I got onstage
For several years pre-pandemic, August and the months leading up to it meant only one thing: Edinburgh Fringe.
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Latrinalia
There are many reasons rock pubs, queer clubs and dive bars will forever have my heart, but I’ve always loved the sexy, sad, political or downright surreal scrawls on their toilet walls.
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Lack of daylight
The nights are long. The days are dark. Times are weird, and traumatic, and the news has become a post-apocalyptic sci-fi parody of itself. Which seems like perfect timing to share our latest short film…
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Sexual experimentation while watching Scream
It’s some time in the late nineties, and a friend has brought round a video: the first film in the Scream trilogy. The film is already infamous for its blood-soaked scenes of gory, violent murders, but its eighteen rating and reputation only makes it all the more enticing.
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On darkness and light: winter to summer solstice
Let’s rewind to six months ago. Deepest, darkest December. It’s bitterly cold and black outside. My alarm goes off, signalling 6am, and I creep out of the bedroom so I don’t wake my partner, then put on the clothes I’ve collected in the bathroom the night before.
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In the Dream House
“The Dream House was never just the Dream House. It was, in turn, a convent of promise (herb garden, wine, writing across the table from each other), a den of debauchery (fucking with the windows open, waking up with mouth on mouth, the low, insistent murmur of fantasy), a haunted house (none of this can really be happening), a prison (need to get out need to get out), and, finally, a dungeon of memory. In dreams it sits behind a green door, for reasons you have never understood. The door was not green.” — In the Dream House, Carmen Maria Machado
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