The title might not sound like it, but Fuck It is indeed a book; not just any book though – it is a handbook on the ‘Ultimate Spiritual Way’ (author’s words). Quite an ambitious statement, but I found myself in almost total agreement with the author by the end. Even now, months after reading, I find myself quietly muttering ‘Fuck It’ to at least one thing a day that just isn’t worth worrying about…
Literature
25
Apr 08
Apr 08
Of Goats, Feelings and Stories Lost & Found
Today it is the one truly global drug; one that started with a curious, dancing goat and found its way through a thousand years of history into the cup next to me as I sit in the Oxford sunshine with a keyboard at my fingertips and a cat purring at my feet.
11
Mar 08
Mar 08
The accidental novelist
Given a free hour to wander around a bookshop, it will be with an air of expectation that I pick up intriguing-looking books by authors I haven’t heard of (beautiful cover designs attract my attention and ‘The Inheritance of Loss’ by Kiran Desai is a particular favourite of the moment so is currently decorating my dressing table).
The sense of simmering excitement as I enter a bookshop has less to do with the prospect of finding a novel on a theme that sparks my interest than finding evidence for the existence of ‘accidental novelists’.
04
Dec 07
Dec 07
Out for the (Word) Count
‘K, so I finished the sucka. 50,000 words in thirty days, most (not all) of them complete fudge. It wasn’t without its casualties though – both fictional and real. After staying up until 3AM on the penultimate day, losing my literary virginity in a scotch-fuelled Mills & Boon-esque awkward encounter between the main character and his nemesis’s sister, I was up again at the crack of dawn to toss most of the characters onto a fire that engulfed the final pages of the novel. A glass of champagne later and it was into the car to drive through a sodden night down to Cornwall for the weekend.
09
Nov 07
Nov 07
No Sleep till iPhone
Since that night there have been legal battles over the iPhone name, venomous exchanges on the interweb over the decision to lock it down, iBricks and silly bitches suing because they have nothing better to do. And, of course, the inevitable squealing of anti-Mac piglets suckled strongly onto Bill Gates’ swollen teats (he says, ducking).