It’s halfway through the afternoon, and I still have the tail end of a hangover. Also, I can’t afford any of the groovy stuff I want to buy at the moment. This is all a bit of a pain. Busy weekend of work coming up, too. What worries me most is that I feel really good about it…
They Fight Crime volume 1
Fight crime! Go on, I dare you. Andrew came up with this as a spreadsheet, and I built a javascript randomiser for it. It makes me laugh very much. It will make you laugh, too.
Randomalia
Acquisitions this weekend: The Beautiful South album and “Hawksmoor” arrived, which was nice. The new Frost novel, borrowed from Dad. And Baldur’s Gate II: Shadows of Amn. Just when I hit a really busy patch, too. How clever of me. Yes. So much for my evenings and weekends, at any rate.
Got Andrew’s computer more or less sorted, too. Don’t know if it actually has a modem (I can’t be arsed to crawl around and look, because the daft sod has left in such an awkward spot), but I’ve managed to convince it that it does, so we’ll find out at some point, I have no doubt. He’s currently playing this Sims, which I find incomprehensible. Boring, boring game.
Blogger
I appear to have become my brother’s blogger consultant. He’s just set up his own blog at automatic smile, and he was having trouble making it go. Five minutes of logging into blogger with his Uid and password, and it’s sorted. And he’s the one doing the multimedia degree. Sad, really.
Autumn
Round the house at night
Never keep you from your sleep
May they all sleep tight
Down in hell tonight
Or wherever they may be”
–The Pogues, “Lullaby of London”
There is no reason for this, other than the time of year. I define my time by music. Pick a period of my life, I can tell you what I was listening to. Pick an experience, I can tell you the tune that fits it. And for me, this is the autumn song. Oh, there are others, but this is the music of rain-slick streets and early winter magic, the one that I always come back to, year after year. I love this time of year.
Bored of Being Sad Now
I don’t have the words to describe how sick this makes me. Thing like this remind how ill the world really is, and all I can think is “I want out”.
Poor Social Skills
Most amusing thing about the weekend: Andrew’s near silence through a large chunk of Saturday, as Marcia and I both rabbited on nineteen to the dozen swapping stories of schooldays and things like that. I feel kind of bad about not letting him get a word in edgeways, but at the same time, it was just amusingly unusual to see him so quiet.
Hawksmoor
That was a thoroughly pleasant weekend, but I’m now fairly solidly knackered, despite being spark out by 11 last night. Resisted buying the new Beautiful South album, but am now staring at Amazon.co.uk with a sinking feeling, with both the album and “Hawksmoor” by Peter Ackroyd sitting in my shopping basket, calling to me. Got “Hawksmoor” in there as a result of Marcia’s recommendation and my own interest in one of Britain’s maddest and most interesting historical architects. I’m also contemplating “London: A biography” by the same author, but I think I’ll wait for the paperback on that one.
Hiddenfactions
Hiddenfactions. Merlin’sbeen busy. And not with Rust, damn him.
Goats
Goats. Yes.