Tag Archives: nostalgia

Epilogue of the Rabbit’s Tongue

london_busqPicture: Miroslav Sasek

Some things warrant ignoring. Please be aware that what follows may be one such thing. In this long, rambling and tedious post, we concern ourselves with an event that never happened, like the moon landings, or the assisination of the Loch Ness Monster. However, it was my great pleasure to take this opporunity to thank some of the many people who have helped make Peter and The Hare who they are, the blog they are, when they are, if they are.

Thanks for listening.

P.S. Is your computer Y2K compliant?

Continue reading Epilogue of the Rabbit’s Tongue


Relics & Games

It’s OK to have heroes. Just a short post to say, like the left hand of a Saint supposedly preserved in a cathedral, for crowds to shuffle by very slowly, and in awe, some things are not yet turned to dust.

the closest thing we have to recorded dreams. That’s why when a black bird flew over my head one evening, and simultaneously I heard a child’s cry, and someone in one of those tall buildings nearby, from a glowing window, pressed “Play” on two incongruous tapedecks – I thought of Zelda .

When Zelda spotted a tower in the distance that could never be reached, when Zelda had a vision of a dark future before it happened, when Zelda played “The Song of Storms” and changed the weather, when Zelda taught a new melody to the spirit child in the forest… thank you.

It’s also the 10th Anniversary of Grim Fandango, everyone. There are games we bring to a close, and games we will never complete, and I wish I spent more time in this mexican beatnik film noir afterlife, it’s firearms that shoot funeral flowers, its simulated poetry dives, its magazine-cutout-montage-people, its Art Deco, glorious-yet-disconcerting temples of seedy, cartoon delight. It’s plight of the common man transported to a totally uncommon and impolite setting.  

At the end of the dayall the pieces go in the same box, and the loose ends take on semi-mythical properties, and I shall not be surprised if my afterlife takes on something of the colour of this… “game”.

We can’t be pixel-perfect. We can expect to lose just as much as we win, but we can learn to enjoy losing, call it exploration. If I’ve neglected to mention the best day of your life, or your favourite of the chunky grey cartridges in my attic, that wasn’t the point. A speck of dust is like a boulder to a microchip.