Keep It Regular
He took no pictures. He collected other people’s pictures. He told a story with the fragmentary narrative of a magpie consciousness. Distributed network profundity. Turn on the hose and leave the hose. It is in a glass room with a child in…
It had a certain taste, blood sprung forth at its touch like zest from a lemon under a blade. Red mist. Someone had wanted to call it Vampire Music, but that was crass, and too blatant for the tastes of those who…
Footprints on water-laden earth. He sees a duck. He’s dreaming. Test subject in a Read-bed. R.E.M ember, burning brightly amidst the water plants. Duckweed. Algae. There are minnows swimming. Stickleback floating. Trout washes of colour under the mirror surface. Sometimes the edges…
Out on the edge of something that only really has a notional edge – a fuzzy signal where matter becomes a theory about physics; becomes a physical phenomenon to be experienced; an undelineated territory. Sometimes the geography of a place maps the…
Sometimes the weight of the thing that you want to communicate makes it really hard to find the words, or even the energy to put it into words. It’s a struggle you have to win as a writer though, because there is…
The sky isn’t working, and it hasn’t been for a while now. Mum remembers when it used to be better – when we didn’t have to run inside and shelter in the Lead Room. She says it ended when they dropped a…
The horse died suddenly. It had not looked good and they all knew they weren’t going to get any meat out of it. They were crossing the desert that had been Alabama before the airburst seared the land, and this was just…
TV channel collapse. The whitenoise babies are crying in the bowling alley gutters, while the drug-blanked kids suck down Hot Cats drenched in mustard. Outside the sentient sky-whale blimps are locking their signals onto journalists so that they can kill undercover reporters.…
He smiled. What was so fascinating about serial killers? Had it shifted through the years, or was it still the sensationalism? Was it still the lust for an insight into the mind of Saucy Jack? Was it the baser instinct they often…
He lays his palm flat against the glass and is surprised for some reason that it sticks there – he thinks of tongues velcroed to icy lamp-posts, and freezerburn. He has been living in a warm climate until recently so he is…