The Independent

Will Self: Joy Division and a Vesta curry

21 December 2008 12:00 AM

When I was 20 I tried to spend Christmas alone. It was a protest – of sorts – and also an actualisation of a deep and twisted disappointment in family, love, cosiness and cheer – all of which I held to be, in this the climactic period of my protracted adolescence, Yuletide lies and festering festive spirits.

PsychoGeography: Journey's end

04 October 2008 12:00 AM

In Ibiza the night proceeds according to plan: we set off in convoy, several cars full of us. True, we're going to a party in a swanky villa on the other side of the island, but while half our company are teenaged, the rest of us are past the age when we can do any raving – except against the dying of the light. Then: solid darkness, with headlights gouging it out to expose switchback roads and useless signs. The mobile phone calls begin: like the echo location of decadent bats. Some Ibizan parties can be found by following lizards stencilled on walls, others by pink balloons, but the turning for this one – or so we're assured through the ether – will be clear to us because of a strategically placed pile of three white phones.

Will Self: Holy cow!

27 September 2008 12:00 AM

PsychoGeography: Once again the British cattle industry was near-annihilated

Will Self: Frozen music

20 September 2008 12:00 AM

PsychoGeography: If Brutalism is heavy metal, then what of postmodernism? Can it be equated with drum’n’bass?

Will Self: Peak condition

13 September 2008 12:00 AM

PsychoGeography: Which philosopher said that reading his fellow thinkers was like watching an ape play with a box of matches?

Will Self: A seer in Provence

06 September 2008 12:00 AM

PsychoGeography: The upland villages of Provence all look like mini collapsed towers of Babel

Will Self: A real cliff hanger

30 August 2008 12:00 AM

PsychoGeography: "See there, I reckon that'll be next to go, bit in 't middle went a few days ago."

Will Self: Slip slidin’away

23 August 2008 12:00 AM

PsychoGeography: Beyond Bridlington things got – as Alice would say – curiouser and curiouser

Will Self: Some like it hot

16 August 2008 12:00 AM

PsychoGeography: 'I’ve been pummelled in hammams from Fez to Cappadocia, emerging feeling like pizza dough'

Will Self: PsychoGeography

09 August 2008 12:00 AM

The crude facts

Will Self: PsychoGeography

02 August 2008 12:00 AM

Kitchen confidential

Will Self: PsychoGeography

26 July 2008 12:00 AM

Asylum years

Will Self: PsychoGeography

19 July 2008 12:00 AM

Golden balls

Will Self: PsychoGeography

12 July 2008 12:00 AM

Postcard from Cognac

Will Self: homebound

07 June 2008 12:00 AM

I got home the other evening after two weeks away in the US. Even as I stepped from the door of the aircraft on to the gantry I felt as if I was home: the grey frayed carpeting, the crap-flat lighting, the odour of Heathrow Airport – the busiest in Europe – was at once chilly and cloacal, suggesting the presence of many thousands of (albeit invisible) bodies. It doesn't sound too good this, does it?