Don’t call it a comeback 2

Why not not write for years and years?

Crushing it.

Crushing it.
The proper movie critic internet, and millions of film nerds, have broken it down plenty already, but this is one of my bugaboos and I won’t stop ranting until I’m dead or living in that cave with Bea, far away from any audiovisual media.

Sitting down and doing something.

(Or standing. YOLO.) When I was 15, my younger brother went to Florida to stay with our cousins for a month, and Mum and I took a road trip to pick him up. En route, I insisted that we detour to Athens, GA because that’s where REM were from. Pre-internet, I had no idea what ...

Sputnik.

Vindictive venues. 1

Cromulent quotidianity. 2

Do-overs.

Holidailies #2.

Things that sound like Siberian dog breeds (if you’ve got blocked-up ears). 1

I have definitely promised myself (and my five readers) not to fall down on the daily part of Holidailies and, because I have never learned a lesson ever, I am doing the same again this year.

Rhythm.

Flippity floppity hats.