On painting feet on a snake
I have to overcome, or at least manage, my fear of rejection and humiliation enough to get the ball rolling.
On (not) trying, doing, thinking, learning, knowing
Nothing grows or maintains its size or strength without being fed. Muscles wither; plants wilt; rivers dry up. Minds are exactly the same.
On ghosting, or the New Professionalism
It is impossible to complain, to reason, to cajole, to argue or to plead with someone if they do not enter into correspondence with you.
On getting close but no cigar
The ball has become the brownest brown it is currently capable of becoming. It will not get any browner, no matter how much more pummelling it receives.
On being too busy writing to write
Out of courageousness, folly or perversity — and I'll let you decide which — I'm cracking on with my writing.
On a craft book that’s actually worth reading
"Then somebody takes it out of my hands and describes it to me. An astonishing feeling. Now it exists."
On solitude, phones, and the garden of the mind
How awful it is when people talk about spending so much time on their phones and using AI so much, as if these were things to be proud of.
On a trip to the zoo
I'd be fascinated, in this new era of extreme prudishness and extreme permissiveness, to watch visitors react to animals having sex.
On the unimprovable
A word which has never, I expect, been said to us, or used to describe anything we did, anything we made, anything we laboured over.
On the value of multiple touch points
I'm noticing more and more that devotees of AI, or AI apologists, as I prefer to think of them, are much more focused on product than process.
