As predicted, this blog has somewhat died a death. Its cousin, The Resting Writer , is where I actually write stuff. So here's an old account of my weekend in Los Angeles in Summer 2008. I was on a business trip that lasted about ten days, so I had a weekend in the middle. It... Continue Reading →
Accessing the past with music
I am watching a documentary about a very old lady in a red jumper. “What is it like when you believe you will die in the next second?”, the interviewer asks. She is asked this a lot, she replies; and the answer is that you do not perceive any emotion – just blackness descending on... Continue Reading →
The resting writer 