I have a review of my Pangur Ban Party ebook 'Oslonians' up at We Who Are About To Die here: http://wewhoareabouttodie.com/2011/08/30/giles-ruffer-on-giles-ruffer/
It's the first in a cycle of self-reviews of Pangur Ban Party ebooks. I am looking forward to reading more of these.
Thanks DJ and Ani Berndt-Smith.
Also, in case anyone missed it, Susie Anderson and Stacey Teague have done a podcast where they read words by loads of really awesome people and also a blog post I made a while ago. They also mention Oslonians and my free mini-chapbook Charles Mingus. They are great people.
Go here: http://vehementoolbox.blogspot.com/2011/08/people-are-just-podcasts-5.html
Open every single link on that page in new tabs and make today the best day of your life!
Tuesday, 30 August 2011
Monday, 29 August 2011
Sunday, 28 August 2011
I'M FUCKING BORED OF THE INTERNET
edit: wrote this while drunk. now it is morning and i'm not drunk. i think i'll leave it as it is though.
Tomorrow is a bank holiday. This is the reason I will write this. This is the reason that earlier I went to the library. I was going to go to the library tomorrow to print some things off and do some work but because of the bank holiday and the library being closed, I went this evening. I was going to get the train, looked up the train to get and started walking. But when I got to the station the train had just pulled in: I had no time to get on the train or buy a ticket. The next train was in half an hour so I went to the nearest bus stop and got on a bus. I hailed the first bus that came along and, a it pulled into the stop, I realised it was the wrong one. I apologised to the driver and he said nothing as the doors closed and the bus left. The bus arrived shortly afterwards. The campus is slightly out of town and the bus takes a turn into it just as the motorway starts. Sign-posts next to the side of the road showed in diagrams something that happened to the road. Orange lights, bent over. The bus pulled in and I crossed the road, went through an underpass and crossed a bridge over the railway lines. The air was cool and somewhat damp, in a refreshing way. I crossed the rugby pitch towards the buildings. In the library computer pool room, the only part of the university open, there were several students there. I was surprised anyone was there tonight. I printed 77 pages and left. I saw the bus leave as I crossed back over the bridge, so spent some time walking around campus. A girl was talking in the middle of a path on her phone. From behind, I had assumed she was waiting for someone. It seemed like an odd place, in the middle of nowhere, to stop to talk on the phone. I passed her and entered an area--I'm not sure what you would call it, not a square, just an area really--in front of the library with a few benches. There were three girls sitting on one of the benches. One of their faces was lit up by a laptop. I sat on one some distance away and looked at the lines of the floor the ran away from me. I waited for several minutes--I had timed how long it took to get here and worked out how long it'd take to walk back to the bus stop in time for the next bus. Several minutes passed. I got up and walked past the three girls sitting on the bench. I walked past the girl talking on the phone. I walked under the underpass and waited at the station. I took the bus back and got Indian take-away, two bottles of beer and a can of gin and tonic. I walked home, to another evening where nothing had or would happen.
Tomorrow is a bank holiday. This is the reason I will write this. This is the reason that earlier I went to the library. I was going to go to the library tomorrow to print some things off and do some work but because of the bank holiday and the library being closed, I went this evening. I was going to get the train, looked up the train to get and started walking. But when I got to the station the train had just pulled in: I had no time to get on the train or buy a ticket. The next train was in half an hour so I went to the nearest bus stop and got on a bus. I hailed the first bus that came along and, a it pulled into the stop, I realised it was the wrong one. I apologised to the driver and he said nothing as the doors closed and the bus left. The bus arrived shortly afterwards. The campus is slightly out of town and the bus takes a turn into it just as the motorway starts. Sign-posts next to the side of the road showed in diagrams something that happened to the road. Orange lights, bent over. The bus pulled in and I crossed the road, went through an underpass and crossed a bridge over the railway lines. The air was cool and somewhat damp, in a refreshing way. I crossed the rugby pitch towards the buildings. In the library computer pool room, the only part of the university open, there were several students there. I was surprised anyone was there tonight. I printed 77 pages and left. I saw the bus leave as I crossed back over the bridge, so spent some time walking around campus. A girl was talking in the middle of a path on her phone. From behind, I had assumed she was waiting for someone. It seemed like an odd place, in the middle of nowhere, to stop to talk on the phone. I passed her and entered an area--I'm not sure what you would call it, not a square, just an area really--in front of the library with a few benches. There were three girls sitting on one of the benches. One of their faces was lit up by a laptop. I sat on one some distance away and looked at the lines of the floor the ran away from me. I waited for several minutes--I had timed how long it took to get here and worked out how long it'd take to walk back to the bus stop in time for the next bus. Several minutes passed. I got up and walked past the three girls sitting on the bench. I walked past the girl talking on the phone. I walked under the underpass and waited at the station. I took the bus back and got Indian take-away, two bottles of beer and a can of gin and tonic. I walked home, to another evening where nothing had or would happen.
Monday, 15 August 2011
FREE MINI-CHAPBOOK
It's size A6, 16 pages long/short.
Email me your address if you want one: Gilesruffer@gmail.com
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