Here are a few more items for the bottomless well…

• People who, when you tell them that you don’t think most people do a particular thing, say: well I do… as if their single voice in the wind constitutes most of the seven billion other folk on this planet that I was referring to in the first place. Most people don’t write cheques anymore. Oh, you do? Well, gee, I guess I was wrong then…
• Passwords on every website. And they’re not just words, like they used to be. No. Nowadays a password has to include three non-sequential upper case letters, two digits, a non-numeric symbol, and a sesame seed bun. And then you are advised not to use the same password for multiple accounts… which nobody listens to because we all just hold on to one word and flip it around a thousand different ways.
• People who arrive at the cinema late. I don’t care how late you are – even if you come in during the opening credits – if you want to squeeze past me with your oversized tub of popcorn and that ginormous plastic Pepsi, you’re going to know about it, because I’m going to tell you. This is even more annoying at the theatre. I would welcome a ruling that precludes any latecomers from taking their seat until the interval, and if you pitch up late after the interval, well guess what? You’ve just missed the end of the show!
• And still at the cinema, what’s with the people who sit down with what appears to be their entire calorific intake for that day while they’re watching a movie? I’m surprised some of these people don’t just pitch up with a fork and knife. It’s never a quiet or odourless food either – it’s always super-crunchy nachos smothered in the strongest smelling cheese that’s ever reached your nostrils.
• People who ask what you are doing when they can quite clearly see what it is you are doing. It’s a redundant question, so why ask?

I am currently sticking to my resolution and have read seven novels thus far this year. It’s not something to write home about particularly – after all, it’s only one book a month – but compared to the drought that was 2015, it is a veritable smorgasbord of words.

Valey of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann; The Stepford Wives by Ira Levin; The Hunted by Elmore Leonard; A Case of Need by Michael Crichton; Mister X by John Lutz; The Jonah by James Herbert; The Pelican Brief by John Grisham.

Unfortunately, none of them have really grabbed me and left a mark, but I know that great literary rollercoaster will come. I’m really just happy at the moment to be click-clacking up the hill…

You never thought you’d be alone this far down the line
And I know what’s been on your mind
You’re afraid it’s all been wasted time

It’s part of the haunting Don Henley vocal from Wasted Time, one of the best songs the Eagles ever recorded. It’s been circling my head for a little while, as these things invariably do.

So I turned forty today. Forty. Life begins now, doesn’t it? People are right – it doesn’t hurt, at least, not physically, but there are emotional pains that go along with it that I can’t run away from. A decade ago I was a much happier person. I was probably a better person as well. Looking back, my thirtieth birthday was probably the best one I have ever had, or am likely to have. This is not to say that getting older means getting worse, because a decade before that – when I turned twenty – I wasn’t in a particularly good space either. So perhaps it alternates, and hitting fifty will be pleasant.

Or perhaps all this is arbitrary.

It’s been twelve years since my father died, an anniversary that I had (embarrassingly) forgotten until a conversation with my grandma brought it to mind.

Full disclosure: i grew to dislike my father. It’s fair to say that for a number of years i genuinely despised him, although that did mellow somewhat towards the end of his life. That comes as no surprise to anyone who knows me well, and even my family (some of whom try to pretend I’m exaggerating) know it’s the truth.

It’s the first time the date has crept up on me and caught me off guard, and i wonder if that is a sign that I’ve emotionally dealt with it, and all the subsequent fallout. I don’t know. I don’t know if you ever do, really.

So why am i posting this unfinished thought? I don’t know that either, but sometimes the world only makes sense when it’s raw and transient. Give yourself too much time to edit, and you sanitise the message… whatever that may be.

It’s been far too long since I have added to this list…

Items 1 – 5

Items 6 – 10

Items 11 – 15

Items 16 – 20

Items 21 – 25

Items 26 – 30

Items 31 – 35

…so here are a few more things I want to get off my chest.

• When you recognise a person in the street heading towards you and as they pass they say how are you doing? … but keep walking as they do. So, do you want me to answer the question, or was it just rhetorical? I assume by your continued movement away from me that you actually don’t care to hang around for my answer. How about next time you just say nothing at all and be done with it?
• People who – within hours of meeting me – ask what football team I support. Not, whether or not I support a football team. Because I’m a guy there’s an instant assumption that I must like the sport. The moment I declare that actually, I don’t like football, that awkward silence means I’m suddenly not worthy of their conversation, as if the only thing these people can talk about is how good/bad/exciting/boring/tense/rigged that game was on Saturday.
• Business speak like going forward and let’s run it up the flagpole. It’s excruciatingly passe, but it’s a stereotype for a reason. Working in an office you hear that kind of thing every hour of every day. I refuse to use these terms, either in verbal or in written communication, unless I’m being facetious. That’s… thinking outside the box.
• The idea that I’m not allowed to dislike a black man for fear of recrimination. Political correctness is insanity these days. If I dislike you, the fact that you have black skin is incidental. You would be an asshole whatever colour you were. And don’t worry, I can assure you, I dislike plenty of white folk too.
• People who go to a Chinese restaurant and order the Chicken Maryland with chips while everyone else is chowing down on the shredded chilli beef and the crispy duck. Are you kidding me? Why is that stuff even on the menu? You don’t go to McDonald’s and ask for crispy won tons, so why does society require that our delicate European palate is catered for in our ethnic restaurants? Do yourself a favour and try the special fried rice.

My 1200 word short story, The Girl in the Glass Bottle, which appeared in the online publication, SQ Mag back in March 2014 has made it into their annual paperback anthology for that year. It was a pleasant surprise to receive my contributor’s copy in the mail a couple of days ago, and it’s a timely kick in the pants as well. It’s one of my favourite pieces of the last few years so I’m happy to see it given the print treatment.

So if speculative fiction is your bag, and you want to check it out, you can do so here.

I saw Creed on the weekend, which, for all intents and purposes, is the seventh Rocky film in everything but name. However, here, Sylvester Stallone cleverly relegates his pugilistic underdog to a secondary role in favour of the titular character, Adonis Creed.

I was apprehensive at first, but I needn’t have been – Michael B. Jordan is perfect in the role of Adonis, son of the flamboyant and charismatic Apollo Creed. Jordan has the physicality and the mannerisms (without becoming parody), and bears more than a passing resemblance to Carl Weathers, who played Apollo in the first four Rocky films. Jordan is a fantastic casting choice.

Although there is nothing earth shattering about the development of the plot, and it does colour outside of the lines a little with the timeline and events of the Rocky universe (which only a well-versed fan would know), it is a very solid entry in the series, and a great platform for future films.

Stallone is often written off – wrongly and unfortunately – as a has-been action hero who simply does not have the acting chops for dramatic roles, but for this turn he has deservedly bagged himself an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor. Love or hate the series, Stallone lives and breathes the character of Balboa, and it’s hard to deny that he completely embodies that part in a way that few of his peers could lay claim in their own ouevre.

I look forward to what the future holds for the Rocky/Creed franchise.

I just heard that Glenn Frey died earlier today, from complications after intestinal surgery. He was taken too soon at 67 years old.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the name, he was – along with Don Henley – one of the founding members of my favourite band, The Eagles. I saw them twice in concert; in 2001 and again in 2014, and they were fantastic on both occasions.

Another icon, gone.

It’s your world now
My race is run
I’m moving on
Like the setting sun
No sad goodbyes
No tears allowed
You’ll be alright
It’s your world now

— It’s Your World Now, from the 2007 Eagles album Long Road Out of Eden

Rest peacefully, Glenn. Take it easy.