I'm finally starting to write again, which is, quite frankly, an utter Gawdsend, as I'd pondered the thought that perhaps that was it and I'd shot my authorial bolt ... as it were.
Now I know I haven't - or perhaps that should be 'think' rather than 'know' - I'm marginally happier. Not that I haven't been happy ... just a tad depressed.
I went to the doctor last week and told her - I had a choice of a her or a him, and I think if you're going to spill your emotions to a doctor it's probably be
So ... CERN's Large Hydron Collider has been switched on, and amazingly, the world is still here, and still in one piece.
Having recovered from cowering in the corner and attempting to kiss my bottom goodbye (why anyone would want to kiss their own bottom is beyond me) I find that a lot of people were really, Really worried about it.
I guess if my Dad had told me the world might be ending I'd have been worried, too. Though I'd probably have tried to use it as an excuse to not do homework.
It's been yonks and yonks since I've put finger to keypad and blogged. My bad, but then I have been somewhat, nay, frightfully busy. Yep, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.
We made a second video, which was erm ... yes. It was. Lo-res is one reason I'm not trumpeting it to the hills. Never again will we make lo-res videos. It's not worth the time spent. We've also been rehearsing 'till our fingers and tonsils bled and the studio had to be emptied by paramedics (name the film that includes
This is one weird week.
I've received both an awful bit of news - in that The Hub is closing, and a great bit of news - in that I've made Dude's pick for July with my short story: 'JJ and The Boys.'
First, The Hub. Rob and Kitty followed a dream, and built a small, but vibrant community. They went through awful trials, worthy of Greek myth, and finally won through. Then ... stuff happened, and Kitty left. Rob carried on for a while, but he has a life to lead and rightly decided that enough wa
I'm marginally happier now since I finished www.camysgaff.com, and Codey's 'Broken Heart'.
It's kind of strange that I worked harder on that song than I ever work on my own stuff. I know I'm genuinely lazy, but that - that recording - has shown me I can achieve more if I want to. Now all I need is a month in a proper studio and a band. Fat chance.
My new short 'Gin' was almost finished when I showed it to a mate. Now: I'm ripping it apart and re-writing. I wanted to post it soon, but there it
My hubristic outburst along the lines of 'shan't write a thing until I've finished a novel na-na-na-na-naaaaaa!' has caused me a lot of grief. So much, in fact, that I'm amazed I haven't exploded - or should that be imploded ... or possiby both?
Anyway, I've given up on it. If I do, then I do. If I don't, then c'est la vie, or somesuch. Life's way too short not to write because I've been a tit. There I've admitted it: I'm a tit.
Let me commend to you www.fawm.org. Lots of fun, and rem
I'm stressed. Stressed to the point of twanging like a human harp - except without the nice chilled music.
Another 48 hours will see me either beamishly copacetic, or in a damn nut house. I Pray (or I would if I wasn't agnostic) it's the former ... 'cause I've never really fancied a straight jacket. Too dashed uncomfortable, don't you know.
I'd like it if I could assign more than one category to a post. It would be peachy, because this might well end up being claptrap as well, and possibly include a whine or two. So.
Trust is the most important part of any relationship, be it in real life or in the relationships we have with people we are never likely to meet. There are people here I like, there are people here I admire, but as far as trust goes is it right, or indeed safe, to open up and be truthful about who I am. Stupid questio
too much to do
too much bleedin' everything and not enough (read none at all) "how's your father"
can't be bothered with capitals or punctu-blinkin'-ation
must get back to it
don't want to
want to play
It's taken me an age to decide to blog here. Dunno why I am really, except secretly I like a lot of the people who hang here, more than a lot of people who hang elsewhere I blog. No names, no packdrill. Which is a very silly cliche.
I'm trying to be more positive. I spend a lot of time bemoaning my lot, and tend to forget that I'm really quite well to do compared with others, even though I only have three pairs of jeans in comparison to some who possess more. Then Jeans do not maketh the man. B
Today I am packing my life into boxes.
Today I am packing up.
Today all I want to do is veg out
but for that I am all out of luck.
I'm sitting here - when I should be packing boxes - writing this blog and wishing it was Wednesday. If this was a movie: the camera would be on me and the background would melt away, morphing into my new room. Sadly, I don't have a 'make Sunday Wednesday' machine, nor am I in a movie. Hohum.
Can't loiter here, nattering. Gotta get on (looks around at th
Time zones. I don't like them. They are there to annoy.
I suppose I should be honest. If the world revolved around the time zone I was in I wouldn't mind so much: having to think about them would still irritate, but I'd cope. BUT having an editor who lives eight hours behind is just ... well bloody inconvenient. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change her for all the tea in China (hmm...). Let me re-phrase. For all the tea in China - which I would sell and then be able to pay her a vast salary an
We released our album nearly a year ago.
Eleven months ago I sent a track off to BBC radio. Last week I got a reply. It looks like they're going to play it, and if they do they'll let me know.... I won't be holding my breath. ;)
You live and learn. In this world of instant communication we seem to expect an instant response. Fat chance: it's really like dancing through amber.
This Thursday, after a month and a week of waiting, we finally get Broadband switched on. And, supposedly, it's between 5 and 7Mb - which, considering it was 0.5MB at our last place, is like giving a kid a Porche.
I ain't blogged in an age, so seeing as how I'm in the mood I thought I would.
I'm now past halfway in my NaNoWriMo tale 'Harvest Time', which started out being one thing and has now turned into something else. I still have faith that it will be a good something else, but who knows.
That's the trouble with being a pantser. One the one hand it's like exploring a vast empty city - you're constantly surprised - and on the other you really, really wish you'd thought about it a bit before you set o
The point. Of life. Is there one?
I'd like to think there is. I'd like to think that it's not all for naught ... but I wonder.
The years roll by and I find myself getting more and more jaded. More and more meh. That's not to say that I'm giving it all up to join a hermitage. I know what I want to do, and I know that I can do what I want to do ... but the shear amount of effort required sometimes seems pointless .... I wish I didn't ponder. I wish I could slob out in front of the tube and 'he
Part of the reason I originally moved from 'the big smoke' down to the coast was to avoid the membership dues of the 'Getting Off One's Face' club. So, it was with trepidation (yeah right) that I got the call, and rushed for the train (Whoopee!!!).
Mental salivation is just as good as physical in my opinion, though on the way up I much doubt anybody watching me would have known, and on the way back I could have cared less.
London: one thing I have missed is the eye candy (paragraph two equall
You wander along thinking life is almost perfect (I say almost, as perfection is really impossible) and then ... shit happens.
One of my oldest and dearest on-line friends has just left the net, and I'm gutted. Gutted because they've gone, and also because I had no inkling - not the vaguest idea - that anything was wrong ... and I don't like it. The foundations of my 'world' have been rocked: there's been an on-line earthquake.
But, as has been pointed out, change is inevitable. I might not li
Living in the country is very nice:
I know this now I don't.
The grass elsewhere is always greener,
but move again I won't.
Ah, hindsight. Suh-weet hindsight.
The move went well - in as much as we moved. Hard work? I should bleedin' well coco! There aren't enough web-bots or admins to remove the expetives I'd like to write - or masseurs to ease my aching muscles. Obviously I'm not fit enough to live in a house with three floors, 'cause, duh, floors mean stairs. Of course, being avian, I'
Yep, it's that time of year again. The end of October approaching Novermber and [drum roll] NaNoWriMo. After last years debacle - well, I suppose I was recording an album ... but that's no excuse - where I failed, I swore I would grow up, become sensible, buy a dressing gown, carpet slippers, a pipe, and retire.
I had a relation who smoked a pipe. Nice chap. My Aunt's husband. The thing was I hardly ever saw him as he was generally surrounded by a cloud of acrid, billowing smoke. So, I don't l
As a few of you know I've recently moved. It was a pain in the rear, and in order to get out in the time required I either had to throw a lot of stuff away or store it somewhere. Unfortunately I'm an inveterate hoarder - I don't mean keeping piles and piles of old newspapers or heaps of rubbish, but I've got a lot of personal stuff like photos and ... well, stuff. You know - or perhaps you're lucky and don't.
Anyway, I got rid of two van loads at the dump, and then I found out about the conce
We've been here now for three weeks, and the Cats have just started to get to go out. They love the garden, and especially the 'patio' which heats up in the sun. They seem to like lying on their backs and wait for their tummy's to be rubbed. Jolly sensible I think, and I'm going to do the same the next time M comes over ... provided the neighbours are out.
The angst involved in letting them out was almost too much. The road at the front of the house, though not a main road, is not Cat friendly
Sunday car boot (trunk for those with a different vocabulary) sales have taken over from church as the place to congregate. Not only do we all worship the great God Mammon, but we either get a bargain or two, or make a few quid - depending if you're buying or selling. I've been both, but today I was selling.
I HATE it. Hate, hate, hate it! Got the idea? It's so damn embarrassing having total strangers trawling through your tat.... But needs must when the devil drives, so suffer I did, with che