Gramma sucks, expression rulez

Gretchen McCulloch wrote a great article about the need for freedom of expression in the language we write. She says that by making sure we don’t come down to hard on creative new formulations of language online in favour of being grammatically correct, we let people convey how they feel more accurately than if they were using proper grammar. I fundamentally agree. Play with language, it’s yours, not the other way around. Try new shit out. Aside from finding more nuanced ways to express yourself, finding new ways to connect with people, you’ll have some goddamned fun, which is all any of us can ask for these days.

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A Crisis of Blogging

I’ve been having a crisis of blogging for the last several months, since the summer. You can see it in the sporadic and strange posts I’ve plastered on the blog, like the stickers you see on lamp-posts and traffic lights and phone boxes. The urge to post, and to write something worthy of posting, has been overwhelming, but my satisfaction with the results has been… mixed.

In early December I read an essay that inspired me to start a small project I thought might be the answer. I thought Peanut Brittle would result in daily content for the blog for the entirety of 2020 that might even mildly interest readers, but we’re a couple of days into the year and I can already tell I don’t want to continue.

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The Joy of Farming & Creative Writing Streams

The stream was a blast, and I’ll be doing it again, on Thursday. I’ll be streaming Resident Evil 2 from seven. Something terrifying for Halloween.

It was shockingly easy to do and I’d recommend it.

The next step, I think is to come up with a format that would work for creative writing streams – I want to start doing streams about writing fiction and workshops, that sort of thing, but I need to do more background work first. Maybe if I get to the point where there’s a little community, even open mic night streams – y’know, bring a piece of poetry or short fiction and air it on stream for the crowd. If that’s something that interests you; let me know, I might be way out on a limb here.

Anyway. Scares. Zombies. Madcap commentary. Thursday, seven o’clock.

The Thunder Storm

There was a storm forecast for just after midnight, so I went to close the windows in my living room.

In the dark I could see the storm coming. The clouds were lit up from inside, silently flashing in the dark, humid night, marbled deep blue and purple and grey. The water of the wharf outside was flat as glass, with the occasional pin prick of rain. Save for the rolling clouds driving up from the south west and the ominous silent flashes of lightning hidden in the clouds, the night was utterly still.

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Review – Fear and Loathing in America: The Brutal Odyssey of an Outlaw Journalist, 1968 – 1976 (Fear and Loathing Letters, Vol. 2)

Continuing from The Proud Highway: Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman 1955-1967 (Fear and Loathing Letters, Vol 1), Fear and Loathing in America is entertaining, interesting and at times, scathing. It showcases Thompson’s bizarre sense of humour, his desire to communicate ‘on a human level’ as he puts it, and his unfailing sense of civil liberty. It illustrates the personality already established in the public mind with letters ranging from missives fired off to sub-par clothing merchandisers, to back and forths in his complex relationship with Oscar Acosta, but it also feels like something is missing.

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