Archive for February, 2008

I was very shy as a kid - and still am. I was thinking about that just before you came in. As much as I’m confident playing rugby, when it comes to stuff like this (pointing to the recorder between us), I still find myself being particularly nervous. Before I open myself to people I like to get to know them. It probably takes a couple of months for people to realise who I am before I reveal my full self.

Jamie Peacock, named as the world’s best rugby league forward for the last two years, talks to Donald McRae in The Guardian.

Notoriously shy, the ferociously competitive Peacock, talks about growing up, his demons and doubts, his dad (who makes false-teeth), and his rejection and abandonment by Matthew Elliott, his coach at Bradford.

Thanks to Tom Baker for this

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A Joke

This might be very old. I don’t know.
Begins with an old guy in a chemist’s shop. This is to waylay the listener, because many jokes begin with the same setting and there’s a good chance you’ll have heard it before. This simple fact makes you listen in a different way. You have both positive and [...]



Presque vu XXXXV

Jason Chervokas on NewCritics really likes Sheryl Crow’s new album, Detours. But:
Sheryl Crow’s music is the sound of soccer mom nation. It’s not just the kind of music your mother would like, it’s the kind of music your mother would make (and maybe does at the local weekly coffee house in the church basement): [...]



Ambience

I’m in the walled garden of the Ambience Café Bar waiting for breakfast to arrive. It’s a small space, paved for tables immediately outside the kitchen, then rising steeply towards the medieval city walls. There’s a breeze in the street but here we are sheltered and a thin sun concentrates on warming us through. At [...]






About Writing:

As I sit at my table, for days, months, years, slowly adding words to empty pages, I feel as if I were bringing into being that other person inside me, in the same way that one might build a bridge or a dome, stone by stone. As we hold words in our hands, like stones, sensing the ways in which each is connected to the others, looking at them sometimes from afar, sometimes from very close, caressing them with our fingers and the tips of our pens, weighing them, moving them around, year in and year out, patiently and hopefully, we create new worlds. Orhan Pamuk

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