Tuesday, 11 January 2011

"Magic and dreams and good madness..."

There's only so many times I can possibly say it's been a crazy few days, or variations of the same, before I start yawning myself. :-)

What may be better are a few details. So, here we go...


Friday night was a night at Katzenjammers, with Claire and co. I've been declared the Oompah Brass bands fifth official groupie, which I deny whole heartedly. :-p

I met up with the guys from Snortle Comedy; they're like the new Goodies, if only because there are three of them and Steve reminds me of a hairer version of Graeme Garden, rarely seen without glasses and suit. Chris was celebrating being unemployed, and his mothers constant attempts to point him in the direction of jobs that pay peanuts. Jamie somehow got into the place looking like a swarthy fisherman. Some said he looked homeless, but he hadn't quite got the dirty bearded look, the nicotine stained teeth and fingers or smell of beer and urine. Although I didn't check too closely.

As official groupie it is part of my job description to stand outside talking with them during smoking breaks. There were tales of weird sex, of ladies trapped in bathtubs, and of ball cupping. The latter was demonstrated on me by the tuba player. It's almost a rite of acceptance into a new circle of weird friends.

A coin toss determined I wasn't going to the Intrepid Fox. Which was good, because I hadn't got much money left for the weekend.

I got home to find myself listed in someone's Twitter #ff post as someone who looked to be promising in 2011. Which I considered incredible praise (and, frankly, a kick up the arse to perform). Thank you @Decimoo :-)


Because I hadn't got much money left for the weekend, I walked to Wimbledon Village from Kingston, to join the Wimbledon Eight pub crawl I'd promised I'd go on. I had the intention of only drink coke and water.

I got there, didn't see anyone I recognised, sent a text to the guy who arranged it then remembered his phone was buggered. I wondered around a bit, checked other pubs, and left the meeting point at about 2.30, half an hour after we'd arranged to meet.

Apparently he was late and arrived at 2.40.

Because I hadn't got much money left for the weekend I walked back to Kingston. In all that was just over two hours walking. I felt vaguely fit by the end of it.

Because I hadn't got much money left for the weekend I turned down a request from my friend Glenn to go drinking in the evening at the Intrepid Fox.

Because I hadn't got much money left for the weekend I hesitated when a girl I'd met just once when very drunk at the Intrepid Fox facebook messaged me to see if I was going.

Using advanced mathematical principals unknown outside my head, I estimated it would be possible, to go for a drink, if I only travelled by bus.

And so I went on to meet my nice new Romanian lady friend and hung out with her. And although nothing really happened much, we did spend most of the time exclusively in each others company.

And she got a massage out of it. I think that scores 'nice guy' points but I have a slight issue with always being the nice guy. It usually fucks me over in the long run.

We spoke about future plans - Slimelight in the near future, Stonehenge maybe some time in Summer.


Posted something about Slimelight and Stonehenge on Facebook. My second cousin from The Netherlands announces she wants to come too. :-)

Heading out to London I pass a dog with a pink collar that takes an immediate liking to me and decides to follow me. I've no idea who her owner is, but she keeps following, sniffing trees, investigating gardens then catching up with me. Several times I turn around and attempt to find her owner and then, when she's occupied sniffing something, turn around. After the first couple of attempts I try to put a car between us. The last time, near the end of the road, she nips into a garden and I run like crazy, round the corner, round another one, and keep running for the best part of a minute. This wouldn't be so bad if I were not carrying a large boardgame and what looks like a giant metal dildo (it's in fact an elaborate case for a card game, designed to look like a bullet - but a bullet that's about the size of a bottle of wine).

The dog, apparently, is unable to pick up my scent.

I met up with friends to play boardgames near London Bridge, including one that takes the piss out of the War on Terror, and one that takes the piss out of Chavs (and is loosely based on Monopoly). One of my friends confided with me that he'd been wanting to get down to Slimelight with his mate, and so a plan was hatched. I think I've got a good new friend in John - I didn't realise we had such similar tastes before today.

Went home feeling good but had a bit of a come down moment. Possibly because the alcohol was wearing off. Possibly because I half hoped to hear from my Romanian friend. Possibly because what goes up must come down.


Checking my Inbox in the morning I find a long email from a celebrity confiding me to secrecy, so have to write a reassuring message back. That was weird.

I fired off a message to my Romanian friend about Slimelight and Stonehenge.

Most of today is devoted to my volunteer work with two charities: Sutton Centre of Independent Living and Learning and Poet in the City. During the first I draw my 'Under A Cheshire Cat Moon' pic, which I scan and drop into Facebook and Tumblr along with another bunch of pictures later that day. Get some nice responses. I'm happy.

Poet in the City is an evening meeting. At Kingsplace, Kings Cross, we discuss upcoming events. I've already volunteered to help with the 'Love Poetry' event on Valentine's Day, but discover that what I thought was a one off event called Borderlands, about poetry from eastern Europe ("Ooo, Romania's in eastern Europe") is, in fact a run of about six events that are all tied to Romanian poetry. Wow! So, well, yes, I sign up to that too.

I'm also asked if I'd like to take at least part responsibility for Blogging and Tweeting on behalf of the charity. Wow. Sure. Yeah. Okay.

And then in a taxi ride to Waterloo station I am told by the guy who runs it about a book of poetry they once produced, and how he had me in mind to design the next version. Wow! I've already done something a little like this as a private project, ambient photography cut together with what I considered cool quotations. So... yes, yes, yes!

I get home to find my dad watching the film version of Aeon Flux. And find replies from my Romanian friend, who says she's still up for Slimelight, she's glad that I'm taking Stonehenge seriously and she likes the fact that I'm nice.

So... yes. Eventful. A very eventful few days. I think I'm allowed to chill out just a bit today. Just a bit, mind.

"May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself."

Neil Gaiman

Amen to that. I almost feel like wheels are turning where I can't see them, as if someone has decided this year should be a good year for me.

I bloody hope so. :-)

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