Author Archives: Tanya Meeson

As 2025 comes to a close, I’ve decided that for the holiday season—maybe even for the whole of 2026—I’m simply going to stop believing that reality is all there is For a while now I’ve felt like somewhere, probably around 2016 (what with Trump and Brexit), humanity somehow took a wrong turn. Like, for someContinueContinue reading “Fake it til the world makes it”

‘Self-publishing is an act of defiance against the system’ OR ‘beeboobeeboo I didn’t get a publisher for The Witch of Benbar’s Cross (but also: fuck yeah)’ Bond of Union, Escher You know that saying ‘the more things change, the more they stay the same’? Of course you do. Well, after bitching for a year thatContinueContinue reading “Rage against the machine”

Or: How I turned my narcoleptic self into a flaming hot, sleepless mess for 2025 NOTE: I’m posting this about two weeks after the fact. If you read these newsletters you’ll know that I was going to stop posting my blogs here in favour of Substack. But it seems that’s no good for my actualContinueContinue reading “How to sleep when the sun goes down”

An intimate history of the love and loss and rediscovery of sleep The Blue Circus (detail), Chagall From the age of about three, sleep presented me with many gifts: escape, first and foremost, from pain, from unnamed, confused grief, escape from loneliness, escape from reality… Another gift was the exploration of the otherworlds: dreams, lucidContinueContinue reading “Little fairies proele mah hairie”

When gardening becomes active meditation There’s a thing called an uintjie. It plagues my garden. It haunts my gardening dreams. Uintjie. That’s not its scientific name mind you. Its scientific name is Immortali Fuckari. That’s the truth of it. These things cannot be killed, unless you use poison over and over again which I doContinueContinue reading “Digging for life’s gold like it’s a facking uintjie”