Spotify has the ability to create a playlist of stuff you’ve listened to the most over the past year. It’s interesting to look at what I’ve been listening to (and always amusing to see Cecilia Bartoli next to Necro…)
Tattoos, I have found, tend to have quite a polarising effect. I have several of them (23 at last count), mostly in places that are openly visible (hands, arms, fingers, neck).
People either love them or hate them: rarely do I meet someone who doesn’t have an opinion on whether I’m “ruining my body” or “making meaningful art”.
Below is a round-up of recent research in psychology, anthropology, sociology and physics.
It’s Monday morning. I wake up to the sound of seagulls screeching outside the window, sun straining through the blind.
I work for a bit, perched on the edge of the single bed in the hotel room with a bright pink laptop on my knee and my feet resting on the chair opposite, tapping out replies to emails and deciding on my Out Of Office message.
By 10am I’m on a bus through the countryside, familiar places passing by the window, invoking memories that have lain dormant since I last returned almost three years ago.
A while ago I watched Darkness Descends, an enjoyable, gritty romp through the New York underground featuring the wonderful Danny Trejo. Some of my favourite quotes included:
This is the appreciation for life. You can only feel it when you face death.
Those tattoos are amazing. Do they mean something?
They mean everything.
You can’t have freedom without a little danger. You can’t have art without a lot of freedom.
Such beautiful rage.
Somebody does need to do something. And maybe this time ‘somebody’ doesn’t mean ‘somebody else’.