Sad On A Number Of Levels

Bored at work. Not unusual, but I have an irritating large amount of work to do, and I’m just not in any sort of mood to do it. Still, things outside of work are going reasonably well. I’m managing to stick to my new healthy regime pretty well, and irritatingly, I feel better for it. Not that there’s anything wrong with feeling better, but damnit I liked smoking and eating crap. I have this terrible feeling that I’ll wind up joining a gym in the near future. And yeah, I know I’ve been planning to do this for the last nine months, but this time it seems quite likely, because I’m discovering that I’m actually enjoying the increased amount of exercise I’m getting. This is Not Right. If I start to show signs of becoming obsessed with jogging, or anything distreesing like that, someone please shoot me, because I’ll be turning into my uncle. Who, I discovered yesterday, has been getting threats from his youngest daughters ex-boyfriend. I laughed out loud at this, because on the list of people I’d fuck with, my uncle comes very near the bottom. Clearly, the daft wee shite has no brains whatsoever.

Roundup

That was a fun weekend, even if the Saturday I’d planned to spend working was in fact a complete write off, as I went to a party Friday night, intending to stay for a couple of hours, missed my train, and was menaced by a Norwegian bearing something that they claimed was rum, but was obviously paint stripper, and as a result got in at half eight in the morning, and wound up sleeping through to half four, just in time to head off for Birthday drinks with the vilest man on Earth, Sick Tim. Low turnout for that, but a good laugh. Sunday, round at Andrea’s with the usual suspects for a very pleasant afternoon. So, the usual huge thanks to all involved, and apologies to all the readers I’ve just put to sleep with the dull minutiae of my life. In penance, some links.

  • Strange Machine. Writings by Warren Ellis. Enjoy.
  • Marie’s World Tour. Comics professional and acclaimed madwoman Marie Javins is off round the world for the year, without leaving the surface of the earth at any point. Marie is a vastly entertaining travel writer, so you really ought to stop by.

Drinking and Writing

Busy again. Weekend good – Drinking with the WEF(UK) mob again, always a laugh. New record set for attendees, and I was, of course, very, very drunk. Sunday: Chinese New Year fun. From my notes:

“The crowds have thinned from earlier, which is good. The Lion dance comes past, trailing its rhythmic cacophany of drums and cymbals, on its way to another resurant. The air is thicker than usual, filled with the smells of food cooking, sizzling in the woks along the street – vendors breaking every hygiene law in the books, but everyone having a great time. This is the sort of time London is at it’s best – packed with life and madness, something new around every corner.”

I Still Remember

Yeah, disgraceful length of time since last update. Been busy. Leave me alone. In penance, some notes from my palmtop, made over Christmas. Not that there’s anything interesting in them, but it’s content…

“The flight’s been cancelled. Everyone’s tired and sweaty and disappointed. Dad and I are trying not to pick fights with one another, but everything either one of says just gets on the other’s wick. We’re not normally like this. It’s the environment – harshly lit plastic and constant beeping. Bollocks.”

“These are the moments that make it all worthwhile. It’s about 4 on Christmas day, and I’m out for a walk. The air is cold and clear, here in Hillsborough. I can smell woodsmoke. The rest of the family went out for a walk en masse earlier, and I’ve just bumped into my cousin Richard on his way back. Standing at the top of a hill looking out across the fields and hills at the sunset. A huge flock of birds are dancing in front of it, swirling and circling as they begin to roost for the night.

There are other families out now, Christmas dinner over and done with, children riding new bikes and scooters. I’m down in the village proper, look across from the war memorial at the church, its spire eerily greenlit against the dusk-blue sky. Magic. On the way back, I stop at the top of the same hill, and look out toward Belfast’s lights, ten thousand amber jewels against the black land.”

It was a good christmas, and I’ve been meaning to mention it here for a while now.

Christmas Eve Day

Sitting here in my grandmother’s lounge, looking out over her lawn at the wind whipping the trees. I’m always slightly awed by th sheer size of the houses round here. Anyway, the only reason I’m really posting this is on the offchance anyone reads this in the next day or two. Merry Christmas, folks.

Drinks

Big WEF(UK) drink-up yesterday. Had a fucking splendid time, marred only slightly by spending the day suffering from a cold that had me feeling like my head was stuffed with cotton wool. (If any of you were wondering why I wasn’t quite at my usual sparkling self, that’ll be why, although given that I was popping pills every few hours, I’m sure you’re all aware of it.) The resturant was fab, if a bit loud and stufy toward the end. Never been to a place where they invite you to draw on the tablecloth, and provide with chalk to do so before. I didn’t try to draw anything, because there isn’t anyone on earth that doesn’t have more artistic talent than I do, but everyone else managed to draw pretty pictures.

Thanks to all who attended for a top time, especially those hardy/mad souls for whom this was the first experience of a WEF drink-up. You’re braver people that I – there were only about five people at the first one I went to, 2 of whom I knew already. I had it easy.

Sudden strange/frightening thought: it’s only a little over a year back that we did the first WEF drinkies. It seems like so much longer.

Glitterbug 2

The more I listen to these Glitterbug MP3s, about a minute each of three different songs, the more they grow on me. Lyssa informs me that they’re playing in London on Monday. I really want to see these people live. So, of course, I’m busy Monday. Fucking typical, really. They’re also playing in London on Thursday. When I am also busy. Welcome to my life.

Gadgetation

It was Andrew’s birthday on Friday. Not exactly a party-hard night, but a perfectly pleasant one. Spent Saturday resurrecting my Palm III, after discovering that it had forgotten everything it ever knew. I worry about my level of geekdom that I carry 2 personal organisers – one for writing on, and the other for actually being organised. Still, I can justify this: there’s neater and more useful organisational software available for the palm, and it’s much better for dumping info onto to browse while travelling, while the Psion has better functions for converting to Word, and is easier to work on for long periods, as it has a keyboard.

See how I clutch at straws.

Several people I know have recently acquired new organisers, mostly Palm-based Handspring Visors. They’re not as ubiquitous as mobile phones yet, but they’re getting there, slowly. I just have this horrible fear that they’ll wind up with the same stigmata as the fil-o-fax did in the 80’s, as one of the signs of the yuppie, or their 00’s equivalent. Whatever that is. Tech professionals, maybe? God, I hope that’s not true. The thought of being some bastard inheritor to the yuppie disgusts and revolts me.

Insight

So, I fail to go to work for three days, and get back to find some tart nagging me to update this thing. Bloody typical. So belatedly: fab time had at Dreddcon, drinking and shooting the breeze. Felt cringingly sorry for the first bloke on at the pitchfest, because while his story was a solid future-shock-by-the-numbers, there was no fire to it. Left after that, but understand that some pitches were worse, some better. Drinks afterward were the usual round of fabulousness and excitment…

My copy of Alan Moore’s new CD “The Highbury Working” arrived. It’s available to buy on-line here. You need to own this, along with Alan’s other CDs of wonder and magic.

You also need to stop by Grant Morrison’s place, and understand.