I’ve always felt a sort of, I suppose, misguided affinity with the Irish. My dad told me when I was younger of the signs that would hang in shop windows - “no blacks, no dogs, no Irish.” And I just imagined that the three would hang outside, on high streets, and peer into the windows of a country that hated them. Of course, this was never really the case. Being hated is no...
Like a tree.
There was a television advert for a bank or an insurance company - I don’t remember which exactly - but I’m pretty sure it was for an organisation for whom the level of emotion was completely inappropriate. It featured a montage of faces, each dreamily looking upwards, sharing the wishes that were somehow facilitated by said organisation. “I want to be a gymnast,” “I...
You wanna live like coloured people?
People. Pets. Places.
We grieve over people and pets but also over places. And while they never die, as such, our relationships with them can change, remain desperately the same or end altogether. In that sense, the towns and cities in which we spend our childhoods, teens and adult lives, are like the relationships we have with people and, to some extent, with pets. They do, after all, get run over by cars; they are...
The writing's on the wall.
Removing Dawson’s Creek from my list of favourite TV shows on social networking site, Facebook, had the exact opposite effect yesterday, when its ‘news feed’ announced the move to my entire network of friends. “‘San Sharma removed Dawson’s Creek from his favourite TV shows’?” Bill wrote on my wall. “…you big gay.” Facebook
To quote Larry David, “I like bowling.” But I can relate, almost too readily, to his many, many complaints: “You can’t find a ball, that’s the problem. I don’t know, maybe you own a bowling ball; I don’t own a bowling ball. My whole life, every time I’m at a bowling alley, sticking my fingers in all these holes, picking up balls… You gotta get...