Quarter Past Curfew - Creativity

Good morning citizens, and welcome to Quarter Past Curfew – a series of vibrations that your mind translates into sounds that it translates into words that it translates into abstract concepts – good lord we’re computers made of meat.  

We start with the headlines: our glorious leader has announced a new raft of measures designed to feed people, starting in June, so just hold your breath until then. In economic news, it turns out that you are organised enough to have many spare batteries, but disorganised enough that they’re all triple a, when you don’t have a single appliance that takes them.

But first; I have a press release on my desk from our glorious leader – praised be his name, hallowed be his memory, reminding us that in these times when we do not leave the house, we may want to start exploring creative outlets. Many citizens have started drawing or finally getting round to finishing that novel, or starting a podcast to polish up their production skills and get over their fear of putting content on the internet without the filter of an actor between writer and audience.

And to be honest with you, I think the vast majority of the creative process is driven by fear. We procrastinate because we fear that the product wont be as good as the vision. We repeatedly edit because we fear the release, and we fear exposure because we fear both critique and indifference and praise and acclaim.

Here in Sector 17, I can hear through my wall that my neighbour has started writing a sitcom. I know this because he’s speaking all the parts aloud. It’s called ‘Three’s a Crowd’ and it’s a standard buddy cop prodcedural, but the twist is that there’s three of them, running a good cop bad cop moral relativist cop routine. Each car chase starts with a five minute argument about who has to sit in the back. 

I’m scared that one day he’ll ask me to ready the bloody thing.

But I guess we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.

Quarter Past Curfew - Neighbours

Good morning citizens, and welcome to Quarter Past Curfew – the blue green algae in the pond of silence.

We start with the headlines: citizens are reminded to stay at home, I repeat, stay at home. In economic news, it turns out that your father never loved you, and this will colour all subsequent relationships with men. More on this later.

But first; I have a press release on my desk from our glorious leader – praised be his name, hallowed be his memory, reminding us to look out for our neighbours. It’s in tough times like these that the government relies on us to play our part, and feed back any unmutual behaviour to the ministry of information. Here in sector seventeen, I know that we’re all looking out deeply for our neighbours – with binoculars, from our windows.

Talking of windows, here in sector 17 – with everyone home – the soundscape has changed. Gone is the howl of engines, the screaming of school-children, and the pitter-patter of tiny armed guards. Instead, for the first time in… what feels like years… I opened the window and listened to birds and insects. Croaking and groaning, reminding us that they are legion and they are strong.

I wonder what will happen when we re-emerge, blinking into the daylight. Will we have to chase the birds away, take machetes to the vines that cover our beautiful concrete.

But I guess we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.

Quarter Past Curfew - Video Meetings

Good morning citizens, and welcome to Quarter Past Curfew – putting the punk back into punctual updates on the end of the world.

We start with the headlines: citizens are being reminded to stay at home, in what is already being described as the second day of lockdown. In economic news, it turns out that history is just a sequence of unrelated events onto which we retrospectively impose a narrative. More on this later.

But first; with many citizens working from home, the video call is becoming something of a depressing staple in the working day. I have a press release here on my desk outlining some advice for successful video calls.

Tip number one: accept that you will look awful on camera. It’s just a fact that people on webcam look grey and flabby, and smaller than you expect, like the difference between advertised meat and actual meat. The angle of the camera will give you more chins than eyebrows and the way that you look at the screen will make you look either lost or confused. It’s best to accept this.

Tip number two: accept people will judge your house. Like renaissance portraiture, the colleague who’s carefully positioned their guitar in the back of the shot.

Tip number three: accept that your job is non-essential. You are non-essential. In the grand scheme of things you are replacable, fungible, The implicit message is that it doesn’t need to be happening. I’m not sure what will happen when this ends, but I guess

But I guess we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.

But until then, hope you stay well, stay complacent, stay happy, stay obedient.

This has been quarter past curfew, and you’ve been incredibly patient.

Quarter Past Curfew - Lockdown

Good morning citizens, and welcome to quarter past curfew – news, sport, opinion, and other meaningless social constructs. 

Today is of course the first day of the lockdown initiative launched by our glorious leader– praised be his name, hallowed be his memory – and we are of course not allowed to leave our houses. I, for one, welcome the changes. It’ll be nice to have a bit of time around the house. I can finally get around to a bit of DIY.. filling in that hole in the wall that the glorious regime left when they took my wife.  And the larger hole they left, when they returned her.

I have a couple of press releases on my desk. But let’s get started with the headlines. The mood of the day is sombre, the soup of the day is tomato, and the fear of the day is irrelevance. And remember – you can expect your rations to arrive some time between 9am and the setting of the cold, indifferent sun.

Erm, so, erm, I’ve got some press releases here.

The first one says remain calm. In all capitals. Underlined five times. It’s very important that we all just remember to keep breathing. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t sort of think about the ramifications of what’s happening …. It’s very important not to confront your own mortality …  just keep forcing television into your eyes like grain down the gullet of a foix gras duck.

Press release number two: we’ve got some economic news: it turns out the entire system is just based on numbers drawn on bits of paper. It’s all made up. Who saw that coming? Not me. And there’s absolutely no reason to take me to a secure government facility. Praise the glorious leader, hallowed be his name, hallowed be his memory,

And finally – as of last night, all public buildings are closed until further notice. This includes all libraries, museums, and galleries – so I know that a lot of us were looking forward to the museum of accurately labelled art (where you can see the painting of the bored lady with the dog, and those watercolours of blurry gardens) but that’ll just have to wait.

And that brings us to the end of today’s update. Hope you’re keeping …well. And sort of managing to tamp down the feeling that we’re standing on the edge of history, a sort of vast lake, and watching a wave approach and in a couple of hundred years this’ll all be a question on a GCSE they’ll be watching all the daytime television hosts talking about how to make your own eggless pasta and shouting at each other across the studio like it’s a Chris Morris sketch.

 But I guess we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.

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Audio issues (tick all that apply)

[  ]     Distorted speech

[  ]     Electronic feedback

[  ]     Screen kept leaking cheese

[  ]     Every time you blinked an old man in a purple trench coat appeared at the window

[  ]     Keyboard began to smell of burning rubber.

[  ]     Keyboard screamed every time you pressed the space bar

[  ]     Keyboard began to extrude a thin, white tentacle

[  ]     Keyboard tentacle began to explore the desk, brushing gently against your hands

[  ]     Keyboard tentacle opened to reveal keratinous teeth

[  ]     Keyboard tentacle began scooping contents of the desk towards this orifice, reminding you of an underwater creature eating krill.

[  ]     The volume was too quiet

[  ]     Everyone had too many arms.

[  ]     Everyone had the right number of arms, but in the wrong places.

[  ]     The computer ran slowly

[  ]     The computer ran slowly towards the door on legs you didn’t know it had

[  ]     The computer ran slowly towards the door on legs you didn’t know it had, until it yanked its charger from the wall, dragging it like a tail behind it as it hobbled away. You chased it – it wasn't difficult, as it waddled uncertainly like a toddler, shifting its weight awkwardly from foot to foot. It teetered at the top of the stairs and fell and now your computer is dead and you think that you might have killed it.

 [  ]   You talked at each other rather than to each other.

[  ]     No-one spoke about anything of substance, instead preferring inane platitudes about the season and weather

[  ]     No-one laughed at your joke

[  ]     Everyone laughed at your joke, but at your joke, not at your joke.

[  ]     Everyone laughed at you. At the concept of you. when confronted they hissed and opened their mouth and didn’t stop opening it until it was the size and shape of a spacehopper.

 [  ]     The call disconnected.

Jonathan Rigby

Jonathan Rigby

Climbs up the stairs to the room where he isn’t allowed

Goes in there now.

Gets in the wardrobe.

Digging around in the dust and the dirt

Finds guitar.

And a face in a jar.

All the other secrets

Seem suddenly so small

All the other secrets

Hurt nobody at all.

Face is contorted

Screaming a plea no-one has, no-one ever will hear.

Howling with fear.

So Jonathan Rigby

Carefully sets back the jar and retreats

from the room.

Thoughts start to bloom.

All the other secrets

Seem suddenly so small

All the other secrets

Hurt nobody at all.

Jonathan Rigby

Forces his food to his mouth with a trembling hand

His mum watches, and

Silently wonders what in the world - on this earth - has got into her son

He’s normally fun.

All the other secrets

Seem suddenly so small

All the other secrets

Hurt nobody at all.