Black-Ink.org will be a bit eratic over the next few days. There’s a very slim chance it won’t come back at all, if someone’s been waiting to pounce on the domain name – my hosting runs out, and the domain expires tomorrow, and since I want to move it anyway, I’m just going to buy it again with the new hosts. Potentially foolish, I know, but I’m going to give it a go. So if you find mail sent to me bouncing, that’s why.
Time To Go.
2002 has been a shitty year for lots of people I know, myself included. So let’s get it kicked out the door tonight, and get on with a better 2003. I lost most of the last half of 2002 to the Essex debacle, and then gave myself December off to just let the stress slip away. So now it’s back to work. I’ve probably blown things on Marlowe for the immediate future, I’m forced to admit – a six month lapse does not look good to an editor (doesn’t mean I won’t try my hand, but I’m not optiimistic), but I’ve got other things to be doing now – Take A Walk With Me In August, a series of Monologues around and through London, is the next job – I want to try and get at least something half credible ready for Bristol – a minicomic or two will do, and it’s half writing itself already, so it seems feasible.
Other than those two: the 9A redesign is January and February – I’d like it to be faster, but between moving house, starting a new job, and a week in Edinburgh, it just doesn’t seem likely. If I can have that and enough material for Sean to make a start on Take A Walk done by the 28th of Feb, I’m going to be a happy man.
Here’s to 2003, folks.
Broadband Again.
It’s slow and cranky, but we’ve got boradband back, and an in-house network up and running. Result!
So, naturally, I’m off to Northern Ireland tomorrow. I’ll be sporadically in touch via e-mail, but only for short mails, as it’s on the Visor. Hope you all enjoy your festive season.
I should probably feel guilty.
After all, I’ve just spent more on a single bottle of booze than I ever have in my life. No, it wasn’t the ten thousand pound bottle of Glenfiddich (one day…), but I have just bought a bottle of the Bushmills 21-year old that I’ve been after for the last couple of years. Assuming, of course, that the website wasn’t lying about them having it in stock…
So I should feel guilty. But somehow, I don’t. I’ll probably feel guilty when I’ve drunk it all, because no matter how slowly I drink it, I’ll still feel like I’ve rushed it. It’s the same logic that has lead me to have a bottle of Bushmills 12 (only available at the distillery shop, and very lovely indeed) unopened all year. My parents bought me a personalised bottle of it as a gift last Christmas, and somehow, there hasn’t been an occaision special enough to justiy opening it all year, this despite the fact that I’ve got through three bottles of whiskey that cost more than the 12…
Speechless.
Apart from an enourmous quantity of swearwords, that is. See, I’m pro-choice. I find it very hard to sympathise with the pro-life view. I mean, the pro-choice lobby isn’t forcing anyone to have abortions, and I think it’s hugely immoral, not to say just plain rude to try and prevent someone from having one.
But at least when an individual person is pro-life, well, it’s just one person, I don’t agree with them, but I know many decent and extremely clever people with whom I disagree on a wide range of issues, including this one. But when a state is pro-life I get incandescent. This is scummy, disgusting behaviour of the first water. It’s fucking religious is what it is. And I disapprove of churches being allowed to set any sort of political agenda, because it’s patently obvious to even a half-bright three year old that they’re not fit to work out a fucking moral agenda, never mind a political one.
Attention Americans: Until you depose your president by armed revolution, and chase him through streets in a mob baying for his blood and the blood of his administration and all their friends and family, finishing by scourging them all to death with rusty barbed wire, the rest of the world will refuse to take you seriously as a sentient people.
Protected:
Coming this weekend.
Well, the iPod should arrive either today or tomorrow, so there’ll have to be time to play with that at some point. Other than that, I’m going to Fin’s work do tonight and Andrew and Marysia’s tomorrow to heal a sick PC. Oh, and I’m going to be in Edinburgh between the 7th and 11th of Jan next year. Hurrah!
Precis.
Moved back to Sutton. New Job Starts In January. Looking forward to long Christmas break. Internet connection at parents place fucked. More in a week or two, when I hope to be back on line properly.
The Parting Glass
I’m not ready to go. Mum and Dad are arriving at ten-ish tomorrow, and I’m just not ready. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m escaping from a shithole that has sapped my creativity and half killed my social life, and I’m dancing a fucking jig about it. Literally. Well, I was a few minutes ago, as Flogging Molly sing on the stereo. But I’m not packed. I don’t have enough boxes to pack all my gear in, so Mum and Dad are bringing more with tomorrow. I’ve done the washing up, I’ve put as much as I can in boxes, and there’s really not a lot left to do except wait for tomorrow, and the inevitable fight to get everything in the van. Wish me luck.
And now, some timewasting, I think. I’ll lift a whiskey to getting the fuck out of here, and then I think it’s time to abuse this broadband connection I’ve paid for and hardly used. I’ve never really done much in the way of on-line gaming, so I think I’ll see if this Dungeon Siege thing works on-line…
Coloured Dead Cow.
Anyone out there know anywhere in London I can get a backpiece painted on my leather jacket for a reasonable (sub-100 quid) price? Anyone out there artistically gifted and want to give it a shot?