Of reading tastes and importance of giving the finger

There was, once upon a time, a period in my life where I was acutely embarrassed about my love of sci-fi. Let me elaborate, put that pitchfork down.

I studied English Language and Literature back in the day, like a bunch of other aspiring authors. At the time I was  convinced that I am never, ever going to be a writer, because reasons. I also brought with me to uni a burning passion and deep respect for sci-fi. This is what I wanted to do in my life, I decided. Editor of a sci-fi publication, despite the fact there were but a handful in my country. This was before the Internet exploded into the Behemoth of today and anyone can blog and publish to their heart’s desire, so my dreams involved buildings full of books. Continue reading

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Of notebooks and rocks

I have a notebook. So what, you’ll say, and you’ll be right. I have one too, you’ll say and your asshole friend (you don’t like him, but hell, you’ve been friends for forever, no sense in dissolving that particular friendship) will probably tell us both he has one too and it’s way better than our notebook.

You really shouldn’t hang out with him. Continue reading