“All men dream: but not equally.” – T. E. Lawrence “The machine does not isolate man from the great problems of nature but plunges him more deeply into them.” – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry I’ve always been haunted by that final film clip: the blue hull slicing across Coniston like a bullet skimming a baptismal font, … Continue reading Bluebird and the Abyss: On Donald Campbell and the Art of Vanishing
Category: My Words
Thoughts and memories-a-plenty!
On the Road – Jack Kerouac and the Cult of Going Absolutely Nowhere Very Fast
I’ve never had the constitution for jazz. It makes me feel like I’m trapped in a lift with a methed-up trumpet and no discernible plot. And yet, somewhere in the post-war fug of America’s caffeine-sweating adolescence, Jack Kerouac managed to convince a generation that the meaning of life could be found in bebop, Benzedrine, and … Continue reading On the Road – Jack Kerouac and the Cult of Going Absolutely Nowhere Very Fast
Ectoplasm and Ego: Reflections on Coward’s Blithe Spirit
Few things are more infuriating than being interrupted at dinner by a ghost. I say this not from experience - at least, not in the spectral sense - but because I’ve spent a good portion of my life watching Noël Coward’s Blithe Spirit with the growing suspicion that I, too, may one day be haunted … Continue reading Ectoplasm and Ego: Reflections on Coward’s Blithe Spirit
Silent Planets and Sinless Beings: On C.S. Lewis, Aliens, and the Theological Terror of the Unknown
There are some things more predictable in modern Christian corners of the internet than the claim that aliens are demons. Not metaphorical demons. Literal, horn-polishing, red-eyed demons in flying saucers, zooming about the upper atmosphere waiting to insert microchips and destroy the family unit. One cannot sneeze in a telescope shop without someone citing Ezekiel’s … Continue reading Silent Planets and Sinless Beings: On C.S. Lewis, Aliens, and the Theological Terror of the Unknown
The Tudors Break a Sweat: My Encounter With the Most Pointless Plague in History
Is there anything more British than politely dying of a mysterious illness while sweating profusely and refusing to make a fuss about it. Enter: The Sweating Sickness of 1485 - or as I like to call it, the Tudor’s very own bout of medieval man-flu, except it killed you quicker than a court summons from … Continue reading The Tudors Break a Sweat: My Encounter With the Most Pointless Plague in History
Wording 