Author Archives: spesaeterna

Auld lang syne

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London at night, as seen from the Canary Wharf area. The red sky had something to do with those flying disc things that appeared a minute later, but I don't remember much after that.

Happy New Year to ye all! I’m back from London, where I ultra-vegetated during three days of wanton abandonment and board games. The wanton abandonement mostly refers to sleeping – just to make sure we’re all on the same page here.

Well, it’s back to work with everyone, including myself, so I’ll just wish you all that 2006 be the best year of your life.

PS. I received the 3rd edition of “Chicken Soup for the Soul” as a present, but don’t expect a steep increase in tear-wrenching quotes anytime soon. No, it’s a good book, really – capable of melting the most icy-nical heart out there.

(Get it? Icy-nical heart? Hello? HELLO?)

The spirit of Christmas – FOR ONLY £5.99!!!

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WHOA! Yesterday I dodged work for a couple of hours and went to do some Christmas shopping, just to contradict my last post.

What a massacre! Fact is, I tend to do most of my shopping online, so I’ve grown unaccustomed to actually going to real shops in the traditional way. Imagine then the shell-shock I underwent yesterday as I fought my way through hordes of mad shoppers, screaming children, Santa Clauses and bewildered staff.

And it wasn’t only that: THE SELECTIONS!!! THE CHOICE!!! Exactly how many different versions of the same book are necessary? How many chemicals must women put on to be “gorgeous”? How many videogames can a teenager play during his teens?

Everywhere I turned I was assaulted by book, album and film posters, each one of them demanding attention, each one of them screaming for my money – “BYE ME”, they yelled; “BYE ME! MAKE CHRISTMAS SPECIAL! ME!” Needless to say that after that traumatising experience, my New Year resolution will be to do some therapy.

Eventually, I bought only one item. The ambulance took me away after that.

No punchline philosophy today, except to point out that when you lose the meaning in something, you need a lot of substitutes to fill the gap.

Oh. That was a punchline.

I write books, not poems

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Merry Christmas to you all, although it’s a bit early. I hope you’re all away with your loved ones (I hope you have some – if not, they’re doing a sale down at Marks & Spencer) and enjoying the season, unlike some of us that will probably be working in a lab. And [WARNING: EVIL CHRISTIAN PROPAGANDA AHEAD] I also hope that you remember what it’s there for, and why we still celebrate it two millennia later…

However, in the interest of my beloved Political Correctness, I thought I’d modify the season’s wishes to make everyone happy. So, Happy/Merry Christmas/Xmas/Preferred Doctrinal Affiliation Remembrance/Holiday to everyone, inclusive of men and women in random order and complete equality, without disregarding those NOT celebrating due to ecological, social, political, and/or moral consciousness, disillusionment, debt, disgruntlement, disenfranchisement, discombobulation, or lack thereof.

There. And for the sake of completion, I think we should start making Political Correctness cards, which, of course, will be the size of a poster and will carry a tag saying “DELETE AS APPROPRIATE”.

Finally, I couldn’t leave you without presenting you with the epic, tear-wrenching, supremely lyrical Christmas poem that I wrote. It took me hours.

‘Twas the night before Christmas
and locked in the lab,
a sad little student
was working like mad.

And then he quit.

The End

For unto us a Child is born,
Unto us a Son is given;
And the government will be upon His shoulder. And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father,
Prince of Peace.
Isaiah 9:6

Nel mezzo del camin di nostra vita…

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Once upon a time (two years ago) I found myself in Siena, Italy for a PhD interview. After the 6-hour ordeal was over, I managed to do some sight-seeing. I fell in love with the place… and I got the PhD position too, but had to decline it eventually.

(NOTE: Contrary to popular beliefs, the Tuscan sky is not as white as my camera made it out to be. It’s called “metering” and I’m obviously not very good at it.)

I dream of writing. Or PD James.

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Huh boy… today I got The Urge to do The Forbidden Thing: Writing. Must have been that funny-smelling coffee I had this afternoon.

The reason writing is Forbidden, is simply that by next October I have to have completed a PhD thesis, ready to go. And starting another novel would NOT be exactly the way to do that.

But it’s killing me. I have always been writing something since 2000, when I finally took pen and paper and answered my life-long exortation. Even during my Masters in Southampton, I wrote. Even in the Army, I wrote. But having completed my last novel (and still in the process of trying to get it out there) this is now the first period in five years when I’m not seriously writing anything (I occasionally write short stories for fun, but no more than 1000 words…).

Problem is, when The Urge becomes too strong, I have to write something or I start having nightmares about Dan Brown pointing at me and laughing (in real life it’s the other way ’round), or the other one with the Harry Potter-headed monster that I have to kill with Tom Clancy books. Or the worse nightmare of all, where I’m locked in a tiny room that plays nothing but PD James audiobooks on the speakers. All day.

It’s enough to drive you crazy. Or get you writing. You ‘ll be surprised how often the two coincide.

I guess starting this blog was part of the withdrawal syndrome. A substitute, perhaps, but still good fun. And, plus, I get to communicate with all my lovely friends… wait a minute – IS ANYONE READING THIS? HELLO? HELLO?