The Blank Screen in My Head
I spent more than forty years not realising that when people said "picture this" they meant it literally. The screen in my head is blank. It's always been blank.
I spent more than forty years not realising that when people said "picture this" they meant it literally. The screen in my head is blank. It's always been blank.
There was a girl down the road and we used to take the furniture out of her bedroom and set it up on the lawn. I've never understood why.
Roy's not just building with magnetic tiles - he's world-making. From alligator airports to houses where every friend has boat parking, these constructions reveal the stories children tell to make sense of their world.
We bought Murdle for Sam as a Father's Day gift - logic puzzles transformed into a competitive board game. What followed was family chaos: recording errors, wrong solutions, and my spectacular elimination. But we all want to play again.
"When people are dead they can still talk," Roy announces. I ask if he talks to dead people. "Yes. Angela. But not you, another Angela." Then he stops answering questions, leaving me to wonder who this other Angela might be.
There’s a place I go, though not always easily. I call it the Night Wing. Not the website—though that’s what I’ve built to house it—but the thing beneath. The place behind the curtain. It’s not real, and it’s not metaphor either. It’s
There might be a year when a birthday party looks like it won't happen. Not because you forgot or because no one cared. Maybe because someone was sick. Or the money wasn’t there. Or you didn't want to invite everyone who might have wanted to
This is a treasure hunt designed for one. It might be something you set up for your child, or for someone you love. It could also be something you set up for yourself. Not to trick yourself. Not to pretend you don't know what's coming. But
My journey with David Lynch began with Dune. I'd fallen in love with Herbert's books and Kyle MacLachlan's portrayal of Paul Atreides. When Twin Peaks was announced, I was ready for whatever strange, liminal world Lynch might create. I still remember catching fragments of
My little boy asked for a story about foxes - specific ones: red, purple, yellow, and blue. I repeated it back to him (as you do when you're trying to get a toddler's story requirements exactly right). When he confirmed, I started with the basics -
Jedediah Berry has a new book out and, when I looked, it wasn't in any of the libraries in Tasmania. Nor my local bookstore. None of his work is actually, which feels like a real loss, especially since The Manual of Detection is the kind of book that
Looking forward to Marisha Pessl's Darkly very much. Impossible doors, unstable reality, a school that might not be what it seems - it's this same strange territory I keep trying to write about. While we wait (or later when we want more) here's an