I’m back here in the office, working on the next version of Ninth Art’s code – I’m moving the site over to sexy OO code, now I know how to do it, in order that everything be much, much prettier than it was before. But there’s part of my brain taunting me with the knowledge that I have a bottle of claret back home, and mulling spices…
“The peel of a bell, and that Christmas tree smell, and eyes full of tinsel and fire” – I believe in Father Christmas
I can’t help it. I’m a sap for Christmas. I kvetch and moan about the tendency to start Christmas in November – I don’t believe the holiday season needs to be dragged out so it loses all it’s power, but come the end of the first week of December, I’ve got the Christmas CDs on, and am in a thoroughly festive mood. I would put decorations up, but I’m lazy. I might drape one of my bookshelves in fairy lights, this year, I guess.
Moore Pleasure
So I’m preparing my holiday compilation minidisc. I like doing these, because I don’t do it by music, exactly, but my feel. Hence, I have followed The Fall with Alan Moore and then The Cocteau Twins, for a really bizarre series of walking music that will get me where I’m going much faster. Hurrah. I’m also pleased because this is the first time I’ve been able to get Moore to work on a compilation album
Freedom
In an hour and a half, I shall be on holiday. Aah, liberation.
New Name
My Discordian Name is going to be Pope Tatterdemalion Susurrus. Yes.
Angel Passage
I’ve been listening to Angel Passage pretty much constantly for the last few days. It’s a brilliant piece of work, a psychogeography of the life of William Blake, a songline of love and creation, joy and despair. Alan still hasn’t topped “The Moon and Serpent Grand Egyptian Theatre of Marvels”/”Birth Caul” combo for me (although I suspect that an audio recording of Snakes and Ladders might come very close), but while it may not flip switches in my brain, it’s still lovely, especially that last track…
Entry
And winning today’s “Spectacular Cleverness” award:
I was sitting here working, when I was overcome by a sneezing fit/dust reaction. So, I thought I’d go out for a walk, blow the cobwebs away, and generally refresh myself.
I stepped out the back door, heard it shut behind me, and then realised it was raining. Pissing it down, in fact. Bugger, I thought, mentally cancelling my walk, and reaching for my keys to go back inside, then realising with terrible clarity exactly where I’d left my keys – on top of a speaker in my bedroom.
Mercifully, Andrew arrived home about twenty minutes later, so I got only slightly soaked.
The moral of the story? There is no moral. But I should always keep my keys on me.
Start
For some reason, I have started waking up absurdly early. It’s pissing me off.
And now, I’m going to the pub.
Trousers
I note that Lyssa has much the same reaction to nu-metal kids as I do. Something along the lines of “It’s not like it was back in my day…”
Mostly, it’s the trousers that frighten me. I feel like stopping them them in the street and demanding that they show me their feet, just so I know that they’ve got some under the scary, scary trousers.
Kodo
Was at the Barbican last night, seeing Kodo live. If you weren’t there, and lets face it, you probably weren’t, then you missed out on one of the most impressive and beautiful experiences going. They were fucking amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it. One of those experience you just know you’ll never forget.