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POLYPHASIC BEEP

Sleep and I are in a relationship built mostly on lies. I pretend I’m tired; it pretends it’s coming. We both know we’re bluffing. The bed welcomes me like a salesman, pillows fluffed with deceit, sheets tucked with malice. I lie there, a prisoner of my own design, counting regrets instead of sheep, replaying entire conversations I never had. Somewhere between the third repositioning and the…

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TEAM WORK

Sunday – time’s most deceptive trick; all promise in the morning and all regret by dusk. But you pretend to comply, like a corpse politely attending its own post-mortem, as you stagger into the kitchen where hope had died sometime around 2019. “Cup of tea!” – that’ll help…It doesn’t, maybe needs more sugar, maybe it has too much, or maybe Sundays are just the blindfold before Monday’s firing…

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LOGICAL FALLACIES

There is a certain art to blending into one’s own apartment, a sort of metaphysical upholstery. I had become the chair. Not sat in it, not draped across it. – I was the chair. Worn, squeaky, and largely ignored unless something needed to be dumped. The television murmured nonsense in the background like a bored hostage, and somewhere in the distance, a neighbour screamed into a pillow about…

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ECONOMIC FALLACIES

Outside, the morning was obstinate, refusing to shine properly, as if even the sun had somewhere better to be. To be fair, it was Tuesday. Have you ever stood still long enough that you forget which way is forward, but still, you don’t actually care? This is what Tuesdays feel like, like if I vanished right now, only the kettle would miss me. The trouble with economic myths is that they are…

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MINOR INCONVENIENCES COOKBOOK

A manual of subtle disruptions – a ledger of vengeance dressed in the ordinary. Flip through the ‘Minor Inconveniences Cookbook’.

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PRIVILEGED OPPRESSION

The ceiling tiles were nicotine-stained mosaics, each square a different shade of beige despair. As a clock hangs lopsided on the wall, ticking, but the minute never ends, seconds appear instead to stack, like an alcoholic saying “just one more”. Fairy lights strung along the counter still flickered, though half were dead, leaving the survivors with nothing but the status of ‘not dead yet’. The…

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4BIT ADDER

Explore how logic gates add two 4-bit numbers. Toggle input bulbs for A and B, watch carries ripple through XOR/AND/OR gates, and read the live binary/decimal sum. Interactive 4-Bit Adder :: Logic Gate Visualizer

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H+WFH=P

The supermarket was almost empty, save for the occasional pensioner moving at the speed of continental drift, and the staff member rearranging tins with the solemnity of a priest tending an altar. The air smelled faintly of bleach and reluctant bread. Somewhere in the frozen aisle, an unholy hum vibrated from a freezer that seemed to be holding on to life purely out of spite. I stood between…

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EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!

The cashier chewed gum with the slow, meditative rhythm of a cow mulling over its own failures. Bored, I stood there patiently, because misery, much like Wi-Fi, works best when you’re stationary. She didn’t want to be here, I didn’t want to be here, neither really even knew what here was, and given up on dreaming where it is we’d rather be. Sometimes, it doesn’t just feel like my life is falling…

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WORST THING SINCE SLICED BREAD

The office was damp with unresolved arguments. The radiator clicked occasionally, like it was laughing quietly to itself. The light flickered once, just once, like it had considered, briefly, letting me in on the joke. As the printer coughed like a teenager pulling on his first cigarette, out the window I could see an old man shuffling down the street with nothing but tinned peaches, his face…

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ONIONS

The dark web – a phrase so demonised it might as well arrive in a trench coat telling you that the weather is usually warm this time of year. The dark web is, sadly, just… the internet, but without the nosy neighbours and cookie consent banners that feel more like veiled threats than actual choices. It’s what the internet was meant to be before it got commodified into a TikTok-fuelled dopamine…

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AGE AUTHORITARIANISM

First, as the following will perhaps read like some far-right far-fetched click-bait that litters the internet like a public park sprinkled with dog mess. I am actually a democratic socialist at heart, and Labour was the closest we got to a democratic society before Margaret Thatcher was given a Dymo Label Blaster for Christmas, so I normally lean towards Labour. But then came the Online Safety…

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DEVIL IN THE DIRT

Disclaimer:I’m not religious, this isn’t meant to offend anyone who is. But as a thought experiment dancing with the devil, I just warn you that it probably will. They say God made man from the dirt – not stardust, not glory – but mud. Wet, dumb earth, and shaped him like a child making a mud pie with googly eyes. Before breath, before sin, before ribs and regret – there was light. Not…

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RED SHOES

They will say you wore red shoes. They’ll smile as they say it, misty-eyed and giddy in the memory of you – the you they remember, not the one you were. You had blue shoes. But no, not anymore. You wore red shoes, and they’ll all agree on it. And that, my friend, is that. Truth dies with the witness. Because once you’re gone, the version of you that you knew, the one with all the contradictions…