Friday, July 29, 2005


[inspired by the first line of the first song I listened to when I got to work this morning - who knows? this might be the start of a meme. Get on board now, before it gets popular and you have to start sneering.]

"Come on, take my hand. I want to contact the living."

I took Randall's offered hand across the table, and placed my other hand on the tv screen. It was hard to tell which was colder, deader. Randall had closed his eyes and was muttering under his breath. I'd never managed to work out what he said during these little anti-seances, but it seemed to help him. He'd drummed into me the importance of doing something, anything, of having a purpose.

Not that we had ever managed to contact the living. We saw them hidden in the static on the tv sometimes, or in the reflections in windows. I could hear them in the other rooms of the house, but they would always be gone when I'd burst in, my "a-ha! caught you!" echoing off the walls.

Randall said we had to keep trying. What if this is the time we get through, he'd say. I didn't want to tell him that I thought we're never going to get through. I've been here for years or hours, I'm not sure. There's no day or night, and I don't remember needing to sleep.

I've seen others on the street outside, other lost people. They walk with furrowed brows, or eyes as wide as the sky, but they're always gone when I get outside.

Randall had sweat on his brow, and his hand was gripping mine so tightly it would have hurt if I wasn't dead. Suddenly he opened his eyes, staring straight at me, and said in a voice like breaking glass, "Can you feel that?"

That's all he said. He let go of my hand, slumped back in the chair. I rubbed my hand gently to get it back into shape. When I looked up, he was gone.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

another test

another test
Originally uploaded by No Middle Name.
I'll add some more words to break the line. One more test of this

posting to flickr thing. I wonder

if this will work.

Test post

Test post
Originally uploaded by No Middle Name.
I'm trying to get this thing to post automatically to my blog, via

I wonder what will happen.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Messing about

I'm just messing about with Technorati. I don't really know why. Move along, nothing to see here.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

BBC NEWS | World | Europe | First gay marriage held in Spain

BBC NEWS | World | Europe | First gay marriage held in Spain: hooray for Spain! I've just checked and my own marriage doesn't appear to be any weaker or mean less to me. Phew!

Sunday, July 10, 2005

London and guilt.

I wasn't going to blog anything about the London bombings. There's plenty of other sites out there, with a huge range of takes on the subject. There's no need to add mine, especially seeing as it's only me that's going to read it.

However, this news story caught my eye. Can you imagine how you'd feel if your first novel was about to come out, a film company had taken an option on it, and a big ad campaign was just about to launch it into the big time? Pretty fucking good, eh?

And then the idea of your novel happens in reality. Then it's not such a good idea after all. You just know that one of the first thoughts of the author, while watching these horrible events unfold on TV, was "Bollocks. That's my novel flushed down the toilet." And then, the thought straight after that would be "Oh fuck, people are dying and I'm worried about my fucking book, I'm such a shit". When everything seems to be going well, that's when life likes to run up and give you a swift kick in the knackers. Poor guy.

(Look, I know there are far worse stories about these events. People have lost much, much more than a possible upturn in their careers, and they have my deepest sympathy. But my Britishness means I can really relate to the guilt and embarrassment of this man, and his publishers.)

Friday, July 08, 2005

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Kung Fu Monkey: 4th Generation Media

Kung Fu Monkey: 4th Generation Media

John Rogers has an interesting post about guerrilla TV, and how Big Media can make some money if they just give up trying to keep things the same as they've always been.

Cream crackered.

You know that episode of the Flintstones where the doctor tells Fred that if he falls asleep he'll die? Yes, you do. Ok, just pretend you do for now. Anyway, Fred props his red eyes open with matchsticks, his increasingly heavy eyelids eventually snapping them. Well, that's how I feel at the moment.

My daughter has been ill for this last week. The poor little thing has a chest infection, which means she's been coughing a lot. Especially during the night. She's also passed it on to my wife, who has also spent much of the week coughing in the small hours. I've been getting a maximum of about 3 hours continuous sleep a night. Yawn. I haven't been this tired and grumpy since the little 'un was born, and we were getting up every couple of hours to feed her.

In the meantime, Blogger has added a thing to upload photos. Which is nice, and if they'd had it a few months ago I'd never have signed up to flickr. I'm glad I did though, I'm really getting in to taking random pictures of stuff from strange angles, just to post to flickr. There's a great community there, and I've learnt a couple of things about taking photos. Try it, you'll like it.

If I wasn't so tired, I'd try my hand at this competition to write the Death of Dumbledore in the style of another author. Maybe I will, once I've had a nice, long, snooze.

Oh, it turns out that the doctor got it wrong and Fred doesn't die. You were worried, I could tell.