Friday, 26 November 2010

The most wanted ipad app

Since the launch of the Apple ipad back in April (more imitations to follow), more and more people are opting to download digital books and substituting the physical book for the ipad. This disappoints me for a number of reasons, mainly because with the ipad (or kindle, etc), you can't be a thumb licking page turner. I mean, the mundane act of watching someone read a book is made very entertaining when said person licks their thumb, index finger, or whichever one, to turn the page, but with the ipad, this humourous act is completely eliminated. So I started thinking and sketching a digital solution to an analog action, and came up with an app which, I hope one day will be developed (sorry I don't have these skills) in order to make reading books on electronic devices entertaining for those of us who still like to carry a book, turn a page and admire other aspects of this ancient communication tool.

Enter "Thumb licker", an app for the ipad that gives you that old school thumb licking/page turning feeling with a new school feel. Coming soon to the app store.

Monday, 22 November 2010

This is...

No wonder my bag is always so heavy.

Thursday, 18 November 2010

no option for extension

It's hard to imagine that today marks five years since she felt that feeling. Five years and everything since has been temporary. Her memory recalls the day vividly - even the clothes she wore, the accessory she had on her backpack, and the way she wandered around aimlessly, confused and unable to understand why she had done what she had done, but she knew it had to be done. She wonders if she's the only one who remembers this date, but it doesn't matter because here she is, five years later, still looking for that feeling, that feeling of permanency.

Tuesday, 16 November 2010

Until then

She loves to put us down. All of us, not just me. "I won't tell you what people said about you, because I'm ashamed to tell you and hurt your feelings." I know deep down it isn't people, but it's her thoughts of me, what she thinks of me. I sense it in her voice, in her mannerisms. This is the reason why I feel like a television screen in the background when I speak to her, a program on mute, an image. I go to sleep hoping that in the morning what I saw, heard and felt was not true, but who am I kidding? I click next and next and next, I listen to conversation after conversation after conversation, all praising the most important people in one's life, and I wish, one day, I could participate. Until then, I keep pretending.

Thursday, 11 November 2010

Inhale, like always

She took a puff of her cigarette and said, "I have to tell you something".
I knew what she was going to say. She tries to be diplomatic but it's that smugness, that patrician smugness, one she isn't entitled too that comes out. I look at her and feel uncomfortable, like I always do. Silence, the awkward one. When she tells me what I knew she was going to tell me, I nod and say "yeah". I've heard it before. And then I think to myself, maybe she should add a "just sayin" at the end, to make her seem less arrogant.