Recent events compel me to post once again; originally posted as simply vs. War in particular response to Russia’s second most recent invasion of Ukraine.
Author: N. P. Ryan
Down with Split Dogs at Dean Lane
When first heading to punk gigs in Bristol and following the relevant social media, I fast became aware of a buzz around local band Split Dogs.
Such was that buzz my first attempt to see them live ended in failure when arriving at The Plough only to find a long line-up outside of people waiting for others to leave—which was unlikely—so they could get in.
It wasn’t until some time later that I managed to catch them at the Chelsea Inn. There they delivered a set of slick frenetic punk exploding with an energy knowing no bounds, producing so much joyous sweat the flood warning for Bristol seen earlier in the day online and making no sense at the time—the weather was fine—suddenly did in bounds. Continue reading
Fake Knockers
Poetry on the subject of fake knockers.
With thanks to Blue Arauz for use of the header image (licensing). Continue reading
That Route
A poem that is conversely anti poetry.
Header image of a snowy path next to a lake taken by me on the shores of Lake Ontario circa 2017. Continue reading
Run On Mawr
Poetry possibly inspired by a number of childhood memories being cobbled together.
With thanks to Dina Nasyrova for use of the header image—licensing—which is not of Merthyr Mawr. Continue reading
SLOTH
Into ‘Lucifer’s Doorway’ suggests Hell has frozen over in awe of the complexities that follow:
‘Evil Hand’ has a doom sound rooted in the 70s that equally sounds fresh as a daisy and sometimes surprisingly light as a feather to boot, elevated not only by the vocals sitting eerily perfect at the top of the music, but also the intricate solos that hedonistically wind through the epic and expansive melodies to create a compelling and contemplative swirl. Continue reading
Gøren: Summon
Gøren is a one person project by Derek Fisher that very much sounds the consequence of dredging all the bayous in Louisiana to pull out every Southern Comfort / Deliverance-esque incident ever to have taken place, despite Derek being from Flint, Michigan, way up in the North of the States.
The southern drool drips off every note of ‘Summon’ as it wades mammoth-like through the bayou, its weight ensuring each step sinks right in, so needs a heavy pull to get out again; a movement of monumental proportions. While on its back sits a lone rider of the Apocalypse passing judgement on those and the sins dredged up with far greater fear and consequence than anything dished out by the more famous four riding horseback. Continue reading
Mist-spent Youth
Possibly, maybe, kinda, potentially based on something I once couldn’t work out.
With thanks to Dimitar Donovski for the use of the header image, a photograph of a child standing in the middle of a misty field (licensing). Continue reading
The Bedbugs Bite Back
A BBC news article (link below) caught my eye the other day for being on the subject of bedbugs; one of the worst types of pests one could suffer an infestation of, second perhaps only to scabies (based on all those that we were trained to treat for).
An unusual article, in that when reporting on an outbreak of bedbugs in Paris, it was uncertain on certain details, questioning whether reports of them biting people on the Metro system were true or just internet scaremongering; an uncertainty that perhaps stems from the extremely out of date notion bedbugs aren’t really a problem anymore. Continue reading
An Aubergine of Apology (or Eggplant of Repentance in North America)
Just over a year ago in August, 2022, a lecturer I follow on Twitter posted not only about it being her birthday, but also that she’d already received dick pics from two unknown senders to celebrate the fact.
What really took me by surprise was when she went on to Continue reading
N. P. Ryan 