Black Dog Diary

NB: I'm jumping right in with fragments from my ongoing short story by providing you with the first half of Chapter Three, which foucses on a girl names Lyra and a conversation with her dog. If you like it, let me know! Feedback always welcome. “You know you don’t want to go,” the dog says sagaciously. It sits in the middle of the living room carpet, very poised, occasionally cocking its head at the girl sat at the table in the corner. She continues layering thick acrylic paint onto the canvas lying flat in front of her. “What are you painting?”             “You,” she says nonchalantly, not looking up. She puts her paintbrush in the jar of water next to her, and impatiently washes the paint off. The wood makes small clinks against the glass; the water turns a filthy grey colour.             “You don’t want to go, do you Lyra?”             The girl shrugs. “Not really,” she dries her brush on some nearby kitchen roll before plunging it into crimson red. “But I haven’t see

I’m not sure how I’ve made it this far. Not that I’m successful, or happy, or have achieved anything. On days like this, when the sky is pale blue and the air feels like frost, and the autumn canopies arouse a melancholic nostalgia that sticks in my throat, I’m just surprised that I’m still here.             I take a long, hungry drag from my menthol cigarette. The smoke mixes with the October air and fills my lungs; it feels clean, satisfying. The bench I sit on is frosted with a fine layer of ice, and it slowly melts into my jeans. I’ve put ‘In the Sun’ by Joseph Arthur on repeat on my phone as I watch the blur of strangers walk by from this campus bench.             Some walk in groups of three, linking arms, heads bowed against the cold. Here, a boy on a skateboard weaves between those coming from their 9 a.m. lectures; next, a young girl in a blue beanie buys a coffee from the campus vendor; now comes a couple of housemates running self-consciously, probably late for their 10

First of all: I'm not fussy, you're just obsessive. We all have things we don't like - it's almost as if we're not all exactly the same... crazy, right? If someone doesn't like The Walking Dead or Game of Thrones, move on, accept it. If someone doesn't like drinking, good for them, no problem. If someone doesn't like foreigners because they're stealing all the jobs, punch them in the face, because they're an asshole.  It's easy to differentiate the good kind of aversions from the bad kind - and I for one don't think that having preferences when it comes to food deserves the amount of wise-cracks and eye rolls that it gets. Here's my experience of being a "fussy" eater.  1. "Just try it!" I’ve suffered through my fair share of the “oh just try it, you’ll like it” conversations and the “you’re so fussy!” comments. It was forgivable when I was 10, and wouldn’t eat disfigured pancakes because I thought t

We’ve all heard of Medusa. She’s the scary monster with a full head of venomous snakes, and eyes that turn you to stone. We have been told countless of times about the tale of Medusa and Perseus, who defeated the Gorgon by severing her head. It sounds oh, so heroic. But what if we thought about what history doesn’t teach us about Medusa? What if, instead of interpreting her as a monster who tormented people, we think about her in a new light? Because here is the stone cold truth: Athena blessed Medusa with the power to protect herself from the brutality of men, and she was murdered for it. It’s no secret that the world we live in is structured by patriarchal values that uphold the power and heroism of men, and diminish the value of women. We see it every day: in the media, in politics, even in our own back yard. Greek mythology is no different. What we are rarely taught about is how Medusa came to even be Medusa. As one of the Gorgon sisters, she was originally a golden-ha

Entheos Music Production  has been taking social media by storm with their Live in the Hive video sessions, and has quickly become the independent artist’s favourite cove in Leeds. We have watched and been drawn into their intimate video sessions with local musicians, set behind the striking walls of Carnegie Stadium. We have joined the vibrant atmospheres of their bustling gigs at The Old Red Bus Station – some of you have even had the pleasure to perform on their landmark balcony. Well, on Saturday 23rd September, Leeds once again echoed with the soaring vocals of Live in Hive’s most impressive artists as Entheos unleashed their latest project: Hive Festival, an entire day of spine-tingling entertainment that celebrated the Yorkshire creative scene. I decided to head down there myself to see the festival in action. It started at three o’clock in the rustic, independent scene of Hyde Park Book Club, a place familiar to a plethora of university of students. Whether it’s your r

After watching ‘Burlesque,’ a brilliant movie starring Christina Aguilera and the ever-dazzling Cher, my friend and I had always been dying to see one in person. Well, thanks to Belgrave Music Hall and Ryvita Von Cheese (get it?) we got our chance to join the colourful madness of burlesque and cabaret last Friday night. If you haven’t heard of The Wet Spot before, I’m about to open your eyes to a new world where stunning performers deliver risqué sequences beneath a canopy of glitter and spotlights. This haven of the strange and wonderful was created by Ryvita Von Cheese back in 2007, and has since become the biggest and baddest burlesque show in West Yorkshire. Performers come from all over the UK, Europe, and even the USA, bringing a wave of sensational acts that will send you reeling. The Wet Spot now has a permanent home at Leeds’ beloved Belgrave Music Hall, so this magnificent hotbed of absurdity is now right on your doorstep. My friend and I began our evening climbing t

As a bona-fide human, I like to think I know a thing or two about being alive. It’s a risky business, sure, but I’ve learnt some key life lessons along the way. Here are 7 of them – one for every day of the week I could have spent sleeping. 1: When something goes wrong in life, and you feel like a failure, all you need to remember is one thing: alcohol was invented for a reason, and repression is a wonderful thing. When I reached my second year at university, I decided it was better for my mental health if every time I failed I bought a bottle of Jameson. Not only did it not help, it broke my bank account *ahem* overdraft (which were also invented for a reason). 2. Essays are stressful, difficult, and extremely time consuming. But with a little bit of integrity, a six-pack of Red Bull, and a sprinkling of Pro Plus you can beat that all-nighter. I felt like I had died, been microwaved back to life, and then died again, but I always got my essays in on time. (Seriously

The age of the Millennial is slowly taking over, and yet we are still struggling to find where we fit in this suffocating jungle. Truth is the world is still predominantly run by Generation X and the antiquated traditions of the Baby Boomers. Most people think that the problems Millennials face are exaggerated, overstated, or simply non-existent. Many of these people are called something like Carol, and they are most commonly seen asking to see a twenty-something’s manager because they won’t accept her expired voucher. We all know a Carol. My ex-boss once told me that the struggle of young people was a mere product of entitlement. I sat there biting my tongue as he expounded his belief that the reason Millennials are struggling with depression is because they were spoilt as children – told that they could achieve anything. He concluded by diminishing the crisis among young people to a ‘strop’ they’re throwing because there isn’t anyone giving them a gold star for doing the bare minim