A Dark Man

Morning sun breaks through the trees, pausing him as gentle shadows creep onto walls. A smile twitches at his lips as he finishes pouring the coffee. Hot, sweet and molten it fragrances the air, cast on the breeze that sends light cotton window coverings fluttering into the room. He walks to the desk, across creaking

A Dark Man

Morning sun breaks through the trees, pausing him as gentle shadows creep onto walls. A smile twitches at his lips as he finishes pouring the coffee. Hot, sweet and molten it fragrances the air, cast on the breeze that sends light cotton window coverings fluttering into the room. He walks to the desk, across creaking

I is writed

So I took another shot at 'writing' something. I'm not sure if it's any good, I'll let you all judge that. Ridicule it if you must but I do find these creative moments quite fun. It'll be here in a bit, I'm just giving it one last edit...

Continuance

Having been off work for a few days (a bad cold, I'll live), and when not sleeping, sneezing or blowing my nose, I've been thinking about this blog and if I can commit to a more regular schedule of posting. The recent posts on Consideration Layers were, I hoped, designed to prompt comment and discussion,

Sick note

I have the lurgy. It is passing but it renders me a useless lump, energyless and uncohesive. Typical man, I know. I had planned to write a follow up to the previous post but my muse has left me. Perhaps I really am an artist, pulling on sorrow and pain to reach places untapped. Or

Writer Blocked

The morning haze dissolves, and the fields burn gold under piercing blue. Wisps of cloud slowly scroll across the view, lazily floating on a distant breeze bringing glimmers of respite as the heat builds. The harsh light renders crisp shadows, overhanging branches mirrored black on tarmac. The heat descends, shimmering air closes on the landscape

Writer Blocked

The morning haze dissolves, and the fields burn gold under piercing blue. Wisps of cloud slowly scroll across the view, lazily floating on a distant breeze bringing glimmers of respite as the heat builds. The harsh light renders crisp shadows, overhanging branches mirrored black on tarmac. The heat descends, shimmering air closes on the landscape

Consideration Layer Model II

I had planned to write more about this idea but as yet I've not had the time to properly flesh out my ideas. I'm also taking the lack of comment on this as a good thing (everyone agrees) rather than a bad thing (no-one is reading). So, to try and briefly summarise what it is

Does no-one care?

To my knowledge there is no Fake Gordon. This fact doesn't disturb me unduly, I'm quite glad there isn't a fake version of me on the internet. However I am a little miffed that I'M not getting sent anything from some unknown stalker stranger... although, frankly, if I were, I'm not sure Care Bears would

Wordle

Ahh the internet is full of simple pleasures, like Wordle. Give it the URL of your blog, a chunk of text, or your del.icio.us username and you get something like this (click for fullsize, requires Java):

Brain dump

Twitter pulls random thoughts from my head now, but there are some that require a little more room to breathe. In no particular order then... The iPhone is a wonderful device, and if you are web-savvy and heavily invested in web applications and social networking then it is THE choice. If you just want a

Consideration Layer Model

As a technical writer, every decision you make is influenced by several discrete things, considerations for either the audience of the information, the process you'll need to follow to collate and verify the information, and so on. Every decision requires such considerations but is it possible to model these? Some background first; I don't revisit

Landfill Indie

Great article about the current state of the UK music scene. Now, whilst I disagree that the Fratellis fall into this camp and feel it is a tad harsh to blame all of this on the Arctic Monkeys, the article mirrors my current thoughts, largely fuelled by listening to X-FM in the morning commute to

More nothing

I'm not sure if it's the lull after the last few frantic weeks but I find myself ebbing between tasks, bumping around on the current, rudderless for the moment, with nary a breeze to prod me gently onwards. In saying that I did re-organise the bedroom yesterday, whilst Louise shampooed the living room carpet. We