Steve Kane has me tagged. This is what I must do.
1. Grab the book closest to you.
2. Open to page 123, go down to the fifth sentence.
3. Post the text of the next three sentences on your blog.
4. Name of the book and the author.
5. Tag three people.
So:
1. I look to the pile of books to the right of my keyboard. Under some pages I […]

Who are you?
I am a fiction writer, visual artist, cross-dresser, palm reader, cook, and traveler of inner and outer worlds. When you travel to spots like Siberia and pack a sex toy in your luggage, you have to be prepared. The woman gate officer in Kyzyl waved my magic wand in the air and asked […]

Who are you?
A flawed but likeable character, often loved, rarely despised, aware that I’m not the man I thought I was and never will be, and given the chance, I’d slip back into the past, never to return. I’m also English to my coccyx, in the Monty Pythonesque tradition if you will, and sick and […]

Interesting blog post - over at the Britannica Blog (Thanks, Tom) - by J.E. Luebering about the disappointing (for some) absence of explicit political content in Orhan Pamuk’s Nobel lecture. Luebering scours the text for “oblique” political references and reconstructs a political narrative that is both “submerged and obvious.”
It is true that the content of […]

Who are you?
I haven’t the faintest idea, and that is serious. I reinvent myself most days, and end up with the same package, give or take, but it’s always an accident. I was adopted at birth, and I guess that makes you query your roots, and see every other rootlet as a very tenuous thing […]

From the Quotes of the Day rss feed:
“Books have the same enemies as people: fire, humidity, animals, weather, and their own content.” ~Paul Valéry
  

Orhan Pamuk is delivering his Nobel speech today at 5.30 pm Stockholm time, 6.30 pm Greek time, 3.30 am Australian time.

Meanwhile, I browse the net for Orhan.
…And play the edu-games at the Nobel site.

World Aids Day. I am reminded of the first time I ever heard of the mysteries of HIV. I was 15, a student in Year 10 at the bland and conservative Meriden School for Girls. It was summer and I was in a geography class with Mr Mawad who was droning on and on as […]