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Burning Questions of the Internet


Search predictions – those auto-generated terms that pop up as you type into a search box – can be useful.

I’ve recently discovered they can also be funny.

Some are funny-ha-ha, accidentally structured like perfect jokes; some are funny-weird.

And some offer a glimpse of an individual searcher, somewhere in the Googleverse, that’s so tragi-comic it makes you laugh out loud. This was the first time I noticed…





Head over to Instagram to check out my new ‘art project’ / procrastination method, Burning Questions of the Internet.




teare copy

This photo series by Rose-Lynn Fisher captures tears of grief, joy, laughter and irritation under the microscope.

Tears aren’t just water. They’re primarily made up of water, salts, antibodies and lysozymes, but the composition depends on the type of tear. There are three main types – basal tears, reflex tears, and weeping tears.

As you can see, they can look incredibly different when evaporated and placed under a microscope… More here



Fake streets, made-up rivers, fictional towns – traps come in many forms. Definitely a Borgesian short story in here somewhere….


Media weirdness


Food for thought…

1. The vertigo-inducing experience of reading my Facebook feed. Dizzying juxtapositions of the horrifying and the banal. Was it always thus?

2. Celebrities are evil. The uncovering of one villain after another is like something from fiction, or a cult. Does power corrupt or merely cover?

Writing on show at the RCA


My good friend Rodrigo Lebrun, currently studying for a Masters in Design Interactions at the Royal College of Art, invited me to collaborate on his exhibition. I wrote a short story about a man approaching retirement, and dreaming of the manmade coral island he’s going to escape to…


Capturing the moment


This is something I seem to be drawn to in (and through) my writing: images that capture a fleeting moment.

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More here

Allende on writing


I start all my books on January eighth. Can you imagine January seventh? It’s hell. Every year on January seventh, I prepare my physical space. I clean up everything from my other books. I just leave my dictionaries, and my first editions, and the research materials for the new one. And then on January eighth I walk seventeen steps from the kitchen to the little pool house that is my office. It’s like a journey to another world. It’s winter, it’s raining usually. I go with my umbrella and the dog following me. From those seventeen steps on, I am in another world and I am another person. I go there scared. And excited. And disappointed — because I have a sort of idea that isn’t really an idea. The first two, three, four weeks are wasted. I just show up in front of the computer. Show up, show up, show up, and after a while the muse shows up, too. If she doesn’t show up invited, eventually she just shows up.