Thursday, 31 March 2016

Now that's how you prepare to fight an age-old evil

The real plan, the unspoken one that hid between John's words, was that we would die. But we would die in the middle of what Korrok's people would remember as the single most retarded and baffling incident in their history.  We would be their Guy fawkes.  They would create a holiday about us. 

John Dies at the End, David Wong

Tuesday, 15 March 2016

Life prep 101

He picked here and there, deliberately, taking his time. He chose a complete set of prejudices which would last him a lifetime and fit him to deal with any situation. He chose his career. He joined a political party.

The Ascent of Rum Doodle, W. E. Bowman

Thursday, 3 March 2016

dust to dust

He touched a little buzzer, the New Art doors opened, the flames flapped and the coffin slid smoothly down into the fiery sea. The doors closed, the nurse rose and made for the door, the clergyman smiled gently from behind the slipway, like a conjuror who has produced his nine hundred and fortieth rabbit without a hitch.

Brighton Rock, Graham Greene.

Wednesday, 28 January 2015

This. Just this

He should have been pleased by his success with these verbal fabrications, but instead he was depressed by it. The memos that came from above telling him he'd done a good job meant nothing to him because they'd been dictated by semi-literates; all they proved was that no one at AnooYoo was capable of appreciating how clever he had been. He came to understand why serial killers sent helpful clues to the police.

Oryx and Crake, Margaret Atwood.

I think I'm related to this lady

there was a glossiness about her that put some people in mind of a candle that had been kept in the warm for too long. There wasn't anything approaching a straight line anywhere on Mrs Whitlow, until she found that something hadn't been dusted properly, when you could use her lips as a ruler.

The Last Continent, Terry Pratchett

Sunday, 7 December 2014

Mobile phone contacts maintenance

I remember telling McGowan how I'd been flicking through all my contacts the night before when it occurred to me that many of them couldn't be considered real friends. I decided to delete a whole bunch, even if they were people I'd known forever. It bothered McGowan that I would do that. "Those are your contacts man," he said. "Yeah? So?" "Don't you care about your contacts?" "Why should I?" "I just don't get why you do stuff like that," he said,. "I wish you wouldn't do stuff like that. It's depressing." I didn't see why it should be depressing to him. They were my contacts. Then one day I got a call out of the blue. "Hello?" I said. "Hey," replied the voice on the other end. "Who is this?" I asked, not having the number in my contacts. It turned out to be McGowan. We haven't talked since,

To Rise Again at a Decent Hour, Joshua Ferris

Tuesday, 14 October 2014

Sickboy wasn't called that for nothing

Aw. It's always nice to leave somebody when they say they'd like to see you again, because there will inevitably come a time when you leave them because they don't want to see you again. 

Porno, Irvine Welsh