This evening, I have made myself steak sandwiches, on ciabatta with mixed leaves mozzarella, sundried tomatoes and a little balsamic vinegar, drunk a bottle of pretty reasonable quality french red wine, and am now sipping an oak-aged Macallan single malt. What would make the night complete is a really good cigar, but one can’t have everything.

I assure you that at some point, I will stop taking about food and drink. Possibly when I’m dead.

At some point, I must bore those of you who haven’t seen Boston Legal by going on about how great it is at length. It’s not the first season of the West Wing, or anything, but it’s probably the best TV I’m currently watching, if only by virtue of the fact that it’s a bit less formulaic than House. Which, love it though I do, is just about the most formulaic show (that I’m willing to watch) on telly.

In the meantime: “Denny Crane! Trix are for kids!”

How I Know God Loves Me…

It is nearly the close of a lazy Sunday. I have put in some time on World of Warcraft, I have done a bit of writing, and a little coding – enough to make me feel like I have acheived a few things, even if some of it is only in a virtual world. I have eaten quite a lot of excellent bacon, too (because I bought a lot from the Really Good Butchers Downstairs yesterday) and that’s always satisfying. I have a DVD full of Boston Legal to watch. And I don’t have to get up tomorrow, because I don’t start work until Wednesday.

All of this is pretty good stuff, but it’s not how I know that god loves me.

I’ve been sitting here, reflecting on that fact that all this is very lovely, but what I really want is some cold beer, and alas, I have no spare cash. But, as I was about to put an old pair of jeans into the laundry hamper, I discovered a fiver I’d forgotten about. And thus it was made manifest: I am one of God’s Very Special Children.

So I’m going to go and buy something nice and cold and watch William Shatner being lordly all night. I shall see you all tomorrow.

Pour Him Over Ice Cream For A Nice Parfait

This evening, I spent two hours eating chocolate.

OK, maybe not quite. But I spent two and half hours learning about chocolate, and there was tasting involved. Because zoo_music_girl and I were at a tasting at my favourite chocolate shop in London (and therefore, the world) L’Artisan Du Chocolat, run by the man behind the chocolate, Gerard Coleman.

I’m talking about food here, so obviously, I’m going to go on a bit…

Seven Things I Hate

1) Settling for second. “Settling” full stop. If it’s not good enough to be your first choice, then why are you fucking bothering with it? Are you seriously telling me that despite that fact that you’ve only got one go at this, you’re willing to populate your life with substandard experiences, people or things? Are you seriously telling me that you can’t find something else to occupy you, in another avenue of life that *is* your first choice?

2) Lack of ambition. Related to the first. I don’t expect everyone to be the best at whatever it is they do. But I expect them to be the best they can, and to strive to better themselves, daily. Again: we’ve only got one lifetime. What’s the point of hanging about?

3) People who want to be famous. I have no problem with anyone who wants to be at the top of a profession where fame is a side effect. Acting, being in a band, film-making, writing, being an artist of any kind: this is good shit. It’s people communicating what’s inside their heads. It’s imagination made manifest in the world. It’s what makes us human, rather than animal, and anyone that encourages more of that is a hero in my book. But if you’re just doing it in order to be famous, or because it’ll give you an easy life, then you should fucking stop now, because you’re devaluing the contributions of people who actually have something to say at worst, and at best, you’re taking up airtime/attention span that could be used for something good. (This is why I hate boy bands and the like – these are not people who have something to say. These are idiots who want their fifteen minutes and an easy life. It is not a co-incidence that Robbie Williams and Will Young have both grown on me as time has passed, and they’ve started to speak for themselves, while just about anyone else that’s come in to the culture by their route is still on the “castrate with rusty implements” list. Warhol was full of dangerous ideas, and that whole fifteen minutes business may have been the worst…)

4) People who can’t communicate. If you’re speaking to me, you’d better be lucid. If you’re writing, you’d better be able to spell and punctuate. I don’t expect everyone to be perfect at it all the time (christ knows, I’m not by the time I’ve had a few drinks) but if you’re asking for my attention, you’d better be able to do something with it.

5) Lies. I don’t mean the little white social ones that stop us all from killing each other. I mean big ones of sort that politicians come out with, or like creationism. Again: who has the time to waste?

6) Things Not Working Properly Even After You’ve Given Them A Good Thumping.

7) Thinking about things I hate. Life’s too short. (But I’ve written this now…)

“Everybody get out, the shop is closed!”

Well, perhaps not, but I seem to be doing other things at the moment, hence the lack of real-life updates in the last while. But you can all stop nudging me (and I’ve set those to go straight into the trash now, so you’re out of luck in the future), because look: I speak my wisdom unto you!

In short: the new job is a new job, with all the attendant stuff. More when I’ve got a better handle on it.

I am going to see Kodo tomorrow. If you are not, then I pity you (unless you saw them tonight), because Kodo are one of The Best Things Ever. If you do not love Kodo, then take your soul back and ask for a refund, because yours is defective. And in a week and half’s time, I am going to taste very fine chocolate during the day, and then possibly go clubbing in the evening for the first time in fuck knows how long.

Other good things: The roof in my room is fixed, and I’ll even be able to hang my curtain back up some time in the next couple of days. (I may not be sleeping much until then, of course.) I have recently re-read all my Powers collections, and they remain ace.

And that’s your lot. Any questions?

The Value Of Professionals

Blowing the trumpet one last time for work for at Sanctuary, and further proof that anyone going out-of-house there (as happens all too often) is on the bad crack:

Fan response to the new Robert Plant site (and in it’s own thread here) – starts about halfway down the page, and is almost uniformly positive. I take a certain amount of pleasure in the fact that they’re willing to believe that elementary things like the mailing list might actually work now (because I know they will) where they didn’t before.

And as I should have said last time, while I’m personally proud of the functionality (some of it a lot tricker than it looks, since the CMS has to be operable by the barely-skilled), the credit for the thing looking so bastard pretty should of course go to the estimable Mr Clandillon.

So, in summary: we’re bloody great, and should be given all the prizes and the adulation of your women.

This entry was originally published at my workblog.