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
Tag: Life
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
Mastro Titta: Pope’s Little Helper with a Big Sword
Giovanni Battista Bugatti - what a name, eh? It sounds like the kind of bloke you’d expect to sell you a fine bottle of chianti or offer unsolicited advice about your olive oil. But no - our man Bugatti wasn’t swirling wine or chasing goats in the hills. He was the official executioner for the … Continue reading Mastro Titta: Pope’s Little Helper with a Big Sword
The Idiot Boy and the Machine: On Ned Ludd’s Kids in the Age of AI
For Context The Luddites weren’t technophobes. Let’s get that out the way. They weren’t afraid of machines in the abstract - they were afraid of being replaced, discarded, and starved by them. And frankly, I think that’s fair. The story begins in the early 1800s, in the smoky belly of England’s Industrial Revolution. Skilled textile … Continue reading The Idiot Boy and the Machine: On Ned Ludd’s Kids in the Age of AI
In Absentia: A Theology of Objects
I've touched on a similar theme in an earlier post, but as per my obsession with objects, I thought there's be no harm indulging again. There’s a sentence in Julian Barnes’ Metroland that hits with the sort of quiet, subcutaneous sting I’ve come to associate with him: Objects contain absent people. On the face of it, it's a throwaway … Continue reading In Absentia: A Theology of Objects
Wording 