(Screen grab of Kentucky Route Zero – one of this year’s Grand Prize nominees) WORDS Hugo Fitzpatrick Self-described “Sundance for independent game developers”, the Independent Games Festival takes places at the end of March in San Francisco. The festival, which … Continue reading Top of the Pile – Grand Prize at the IGF Awards
I met Kate Strain and Rachael Gilbourne in the summer of 2012. They were both working on Conjuring for Beginners, where visual arts took over all of the spaces in Project Arts Centre. As they are now about to launch … Continue reading The Exhibitionists
WORDS Gabija Purlyte Yellowism: it’s a hashtag word of 2012. It came into the mediascape with a bang after 7th October, when the self-proclaimed co-founder and leader of the Yellowism movement, Vladimir Umanets, marked in black paint the corner … Continue reading And It Was All . . . YELLOW
WORDS Paige Crosbie It is impossible to artificially synthesise the taste of chocolate. Try as you might, you will never get anywhere close to the genuine taste of the mixture of cocoa bean and butter. It also contains phenyl-phyamine, the … Continue reading Full of Beans
WORDS Alana Ryan It was, by all accounts, a pretty miserable evening. Dark and damp, the rain was drizzling down in a thoroughly Irish fashion. January was excelling at sucking all joy out of the soul, to the extent that … Continue reading Her Young Heart
Monday Can you write a sex diary that doesn’t actually involve sex? Do I really want a record of my ineffectual endeavours to at least reach orgasm? Won’t it remind me of being surrounded by sophisticated Europeans swilling glasses of red wine while spilling my Gin and Tonic, snogging a startled bearded man, then drunkenly assuring him, in English, “I’m not normally like this”? My lack of luck in the easiest country to get lucky is, I suppose, laughable at best. Tuesday The normally lecherous barista next to my house did not compliment me this morning. It is February, … Continue reading THE ONE WITH A LACK OF AMORE
Monday The first and only disagreement we’ve ever had was over the aesthetic merits of glamour model and Big Brother contestant Chanelle Hayes. Perhaps it was to be expected that our second would be over a topic similarly celebrated by Zoo magazine: “Fucking darts?” I have no idea what to say: “Yes, darts.” She’s not usually one for shouting, and plucks my darts out of the board (T20, T1, 1), viciously throwing two at a poster of Chanelle (chin, left boob) and one at Stevie Nicks circa 1982 (top hat). “I didn’t even know it was on Valentine’s Day when I entered.” … Continue reading THE ONE WITH SHARP OBJECTS
Monday She could do better, my friends tell me on a daily basis. Today, one likens her to pornographic actress Faye Reagan, who I pretend not to know. “And I don’t mean Faye Reagan these days,” he adds. “I mean when she was fresh and still super thin. I’d say she rides like Nina Carberry too.” As I am about to respond, she sits down beside me. She kisses me on the cheek before turning to the lads to ask if they had watched Liverpool and Man U, but I’m not really listening because I feel like the King of … Continue reading THE ONE WITH A TWIST
Monday It was her first time at our house. She admired the posters in the sitting room for their various ironies. The 6ft x 4ft periodic table was particularly amusing to her. “What’s your favourite element?” She thought for a moment. “Neon. You?” I just kind of shrugged. I thought Neon was a good answer though and mentally noted that it was now my favourite element. We drank and laughed about our mutual friends and she asked if she could stay over. I said that she could. We went upstairs. The time between our first kiss and penetrative sex was … Continue reading THE ONE WHERE HE DOESN’T HOLD BACK
Monday I wake up already depressed that it is Monday, a sad fact that is only made worse when I remember where I am. A twin room in a dank apartment, covered by a measly cover-less single duvet. It being my third year in college I know already that it could be Christmas before I pilfer another duvet cover from home. I promise myself to stop drinking tea in bed to keep it stain-free. My room-mate snores less than three feet away from me and I curse the recession that has me sharing a room. Nearly no masturbation opportunities now. … Continue reading THE ONE WITH THE WORLD’S CLEANEST DUVET
Monday I bump into my ex-girlfriend’s dad in a coffee shop we both like. This is a regular thing, maybe happening every two weeks on average. We’re always happy to make small talk, but we always dance around what links us. He usually asks: “Have you heard much from her recently?” The “recently” is always an amusing lie in these conversations. We meet regularly enough that the word means nothing. “No,” I say, “not recently.” And I say that every time because I never hear from her. Tuesday I remember being really drunk and deciding that it was okay … Continue reading THE ONE WITH THE OLDER MAN AS HIMSELF
Monday The unfounded sexual expectations of fresher’s week is similar to that of a pubescent family beach holiday. After 3 months of minimal soft contact and a recently found singlehood owing to the annual Erasmus exodus I decided to return to Dublin early to test my fortune with a new liberal attitude towards relationships. I finished the week asking myself whether Fresher’s events were really even worth a wank. I kick off with a hazy one in Academy, slim-pickings but I get talking to one girl in the smoking area. Lose her in the usual flaky interactions but she’s the … Continue reading THE ONE WHERE HE SHOULD’VE STAYED HOME