Hello.
You’ve arrived somewhere. In an archive of someone’s scribblings. No-one in particular. As an eminent brain-care specialist once said “… just this guy, you know?” Or gal.
It’s called “The Site That Jack Built” because some years ago I’d just learned about a protest book I liked the sound of. And like the author of that book, I too dedicate my anonymous efforts to a Doctor Slop, but now some distant and deranged relative of the original Esteemed Slop perhaps. Yes, Dr Gonzo (or possibly a man called Hunter S Thompson) has become my patron – a wild creature who crawled his way out of Kentucky miscreance and made himself into a Doctor of Divinity, or possibly journalism, we can’t be sure.
I can hear people asking me, “Don’t you mean that surly Samoan gentleman?”. And I say look, many others have inspired me (and I do have a background crawling around the floor of legal offices and swapping random wires around to see what happens, so you could call me something of a legal expert), but this place was meant for the kind of rambling and vaguely political ranting that only HST, the Good Doctor, could grunt in approval of. Of course, I have other interests, motives and personal failings, amateur legal studies included.
I am very much prone to diversions that read like distraction and love a bit of introspective reflection. Don’t go expecting a coherent rhetorical or emotional experience as you peruse these pages. I don’t even like politics, so I don’t know why I’m still hosting a blog originally inspired by political writers.
As mother of my own future, I bleed repressed emotional problems like I have menorrhagia, and at a certain point I just give up on the cup and spend my days commando in the countryside, trying not to pass out.
These episodes often lead me into strange philosophical woodlands and mycelial webs, searching for my children, my parents, myself. All you really need to know is that existence exists, folks. The rest of it all springs from there.
Basically I scribbled on my wall a while ago, “Live a good life, record it, die.” And overall, I guess this site is part of that grand project.
Categories explained
Communication as Magic – Alan Moore kinda says that real magic and art (which I’d call ‘attempts at communication’) are the same thing. So this is me spending too much time on words, sounds, images in an attempt to decipher their meanings and rituals.
Counting the Days – sometimes I just like to write journal style, and if I don’t retrospectively apply a proper title or role to the piece, it goes here.
I Don’t Like Politics – yeah I don’t.
Notes – bits of ideas that aren’t articles/etc yet, but I fancy putting them up anyway.
Other sites
I now put most of my poetry up on scagmag.uk, but I’ll still talk about some here because apparently I like talking about my own writing process.
I also have a dream-like journal-land called lyingrosa.com, where I can be more relaxed with myself (or maybe she’s the witch who possessed me and stole half of my soul, who knows). In theory that’s all a bit more uncanny valley than here.
Recent posts
- 13-02-26 Lucky ThirteenHow do you folks out there feel about the number thirteen? Is it a mystical bringer of curses? A sign of bad dinner guests or strange lunar-solar phenomena? Anyone suffering from triskaidekaphobia in the crowd? Right now, I just feel like it’s spelt weird, and I’m wondering if that’s a rumour of what dyslexia is…
- Project Zomboid, Sunday 1st Feb 2026.Every day I play this game I think it’s pointless and I need to stop. Every day it takes at least an hour longer than I meant it to. Food left cooking in the kitchen starts to burn, tasks are left undone, the sun sets before I’ve seen it risen. Still, I used to be…
- Strange Briton commiserates with Lakota over imprisoned headdressAn indigenous rights activist recently accused my town of hoarding a stolen Lakota headdress. Headdress. It seems strange to me that that word has two “d”s in it. Headress. How much would we really lose by dropping the second d? (Get your mind out of whichever gutter it’s currently in. Mine went to breasts [dd],…
- Beyond reality is the terrifyingly realSo I was thinking, somewhat loftily, that Metaphysics is consistent, but debates about it, the language around it, aren’t. Metaphysics is really just a more readily accessible and somewhat clairvoyant restatement of physics – I mean it can predict some of physics’ conclusions, but without the mathematical proofs, and so without the detail required for…
- Since 2019… language traps, accidental ethics and being a good doggyI haven’t written on here since 2019 so, I prompted myself to get started again by editing an old draft for a post (well, just a little thought-note really) and scheduling it to go out next week, which quickly become tomorrow, and while I was writing this, tomorrow became today. The logic being, if I…
- Supreme Problems #19The word ‘demos’ The word ‘demos’ The word ‘demos’ ‘kratos’ People are a political concept they are an aggregate of their opinions and biases and the extent to which they will express those opinions and biases in a convincing way to a wide audience, especially a voting or otherwise competent audience The word The variance…
- A Red Handkerchief on the GrassBeen away a while. Here’s a new one I’m working on. A Red Handkerchief on Grass (By accident I imagine a world where we could have sex, but you and they covet her) i’m talking to you on the phone with the messages, you’re sending me them and I’m sleepy and in the bed and…
- Learning From the “Masters”Edit: I fucking hated poetry again for a short time lately, I forgot its value, I looked on it as a poor excuse for a few chatted sentences, and then, again, Dylan Thomas saved me and my sense of poetic value, of betrayed and crushed romance, breathing under the boot in rebellion. I’ve been watching…
- Naive and AngryCaution: some very…erm…’casual’ thinking in this one… Sometimes it feels like last generation were the cultural biproduct of the 60’s, and because so much seeming good happened (culturally) in the 60’s, but was then betrayed, the 60’s kids are a bunch of miserable sellout fucks. The kids they had, the culture they predicated and in…
- Rambling RevolutionsI keep wanting to find a way of writing on here regularly, so I’m now attempting a ‘journal’ type of thing, which I’ve definitely attempted before and failed…well, stopped. I’ve already stacked a few posts to try and give myself a head start. You might think that’s cheating given the diary-like context, and it probably…
- Thoughts of the Early MorningThe secret is not to create mercilessly But to make what other people thought They only knew privately – When you show them something they Felt inside and quiet and alone It’s like a magick trick except Instead of pulling a coin from behind An ear it’s a heart from a chest or brain The…
- Pernod in the Interwar YearsOn my way here today I got an ad for Wix, I wondered: who’s paid off Google to translate “Wordpress” to “Wix” first, or is it all just some damned mistake…that some ad agent somewhere, paid more than the freak curating our children’s futures, just happened to confuse one ‘w’ word with another, relevant, ‘w’…
The Site That Jack Built 