The Swipe Volume 2 Chapter 32
Sometimes I wish I was a little more organised. I scatter notes and ideas across a broad swathe of notebooks, apps and online writing solutions. I mean, it’s nice to come across the kernel of a story by accident but if I was sensible, I’d have one box for everything. Even Scrivener, my supposed writing application of choice, is a maelstrom of nested folders and projects, often clones of each other, full of half-started scripts and shorts. I came across a stern note to myself in Google Keep written back in January, setting out a perfectly reasonable schedule of works for the year. No prizes for guessing how many of those bullet points have been filled in.
So here I am, bumbling through the maze I built for myself, managing, somehow, to push out a newsletter at the last minute every Saturday, usually in my sleep shorts while TLC dozes upstairs. It must be working, or I wouldn’t do it this way. Right?
Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.
Rob is reading…
I’ll share a couple of short stories I enjoyed this week, both set in a post-crash Earth where radical changes have happened to human society. The first, by R.W. W. Green, is the bleaker of the two, but still finds room for a wedding, music, dance and something like a happy ending.
Rob is watching…
Prey. The Dan Tractenberg Predator movie, which took the bold step of relocating the story to Comanche territory in 1715. The film pits everyone’s favourite dread-locked alien against a First Nation girl with a talent for hunting and a thirst for validation—an honour her tribe profoundly refuses her. Prey is fantastic. Everything you want from an action movie in terms of fights, shocks and gore. It has heart and brains, and a stunning, ferocious central performance from Amber Midthunder as the girl with the axe. A real treat.
Rob is listening…
to The I’m Not There soundtrack—originally for a short music quiz with a couple of pals, but I ended up down a Dylan covers rabbit hole. The whole album (and indeed the movie) is surreal and delightful. Cate Blanchett’s version of Ballad Of A Thin Man is a standout for me. Go dig in and find your own favourite.
Rob is eating…
Well, I’m not because I still have a modicum of respect for my lower workings, but I’m still intrigued by the big free steak dinner on offer at The Bix Texan in Amarillo, Texas. Of course, there’s a catch. Michael Sandberg lays it out.
Rob’s Low-Key Obsession Of The Week…
Gordon Bolland’s haircut.
https://twitter.com/robwilliams71/status/1828730091850919939?s=61&t=dnOKjJ8BSZPFo7mgCgUOKQOnce, writer and artist Frank Miller was a true hero of mine. Creator of comics which still resonate in popular culture, his version of Batman is the definitive by which all others are judged. Post 2001, he went into a nosedive, as his art and writing turned ugly. Turns out, a lot of that was down to a crippling alcohol dependency—one which nearly killed him. Now solidly in recovery, he’s revisited a past glory. Ronin Rising picks up the story of his wild bio-tech samurai mash-up from the mid-eighties. It looks like he might have rediscovered his form. I’ll be investing. Everyone deserves a shot at redemption.
I worry at the increasingly puritanical tone of online literary commentary. Sex seems to be an increasingly fraught issue as lobbyists and critics seek to keep it off the page and the shelves of libraries. Of course, the cry of ‘won’t somebody think of the children?’ is nothing new. There’s a difference between sense and censorship, and given the choice between sex and violence I know which one I’d rather pick. Emily Lynell Edwards has more on the war for and against libido.
On a related theme, writer Jaime Lowe found, post-breakup, she was in a place where desire had disappeared. Longing to reconnect to her sensual world, she took a long walk off a short pier. I love the presentation on this one.
Looking For Love In All The Odd Places
I talked a few weeks ago about an excellent poetry session at Reading Writers in which we were led through the process of free-associating verse from a simple outburst of prose. Here’s another technique which tickled my thinking bones. Might give this one a try.
At the last count we subscribe to at least five streaming services at Swipe Towers and barely watch any of them. The problem? Too much choice. Unless you have a very clear idea of what’s on the viewing agenda for the evening, it’s way too easy to lose yourself in the branches of the decision tree. It’s all Netflix’s fault.
Our second story comes from Annaleena Newitz, who spins a yarn set in a post crash society huddled in a canyon. It’s a fine depiction of how anarchy (that is, rule without government) can work in our favour. This is genuinely positive, and positively life-affirming. Oh, and there’s a cat called Irving. Now I’ve got your attention, right?
Ninth Art Nerdery klaxon. It takes a certain sort of person to jump onto a long personal recollection from artist Drew Friedman of comics legend Harvey Kurtzman. A love of seventies funny books and a sense of humour honed through way too many issues of Mad Magazine will be handy. Feel free to skip, but you’ll be missing an evocative picture of a very particular place, time and energy.
Last up, a really fun interview with girl of the decade, Aubrey Plaza, who is frankly killing it in everything she does. Hard to believe she’s just slid into her fourth decade, until you look back at the body of work. Sure, she mostly plays an exaggerated version of herself. But honestly, I could watch that version all day.
I’m gonna Outro with one more tune from the I’m Not There soundtrack. It’s my favourite, presented with an open heart and bright, clear eyes. The tune is a little melancholy perhaps (in the movie it soundtracks a funeral) but somehow suits the timbre of the season.
See you in seven, fellow travellers.
