The low point in a writer's career.
Pumpkin catapults. And Acceleration and Density Testing of Standard PC Keyboards.
So, you want to learn Japanese.
It is so very good to be on holiday. I could sleep in this morning as long as I liked. I woke up, lingered in bed for another hour and a half, then decided I was rested enough to greet the afternoon. It was 9:30am. I think this is a middle-age thing that evolution has bestowed upon humanity for the purpose of annoying one's children.
I braved the tattered remains of the public transport network to the Dev
for
pixel_person's birthday drinks. I arrived an hour and a
half late, but she was two hours late. Hung out with
froodthehoopy and Jane meanwhile.
pixel_person arrived with
anappleater and Sarah. We discussed the relative annoyance value of fellow starving artists versus fellow starving actors.
In Australia, fireworks mostly cannot be purchased by the general public. Most people are happy with this arrangement - it keeps them out of the hands of fuckwits. In Walthamstow, they go off ALL THE FUCKING TIME. Like when I'm walking past on the way home from the pub this evening. Jesus fuck! But tonight it's not drug dealers warning their fellow members of the lower classes of raids; no, for the next three nights, it's Diwali. Next are the several weeks around November fifth[1]. Then the end of Ramadan. I can't tell you how this thrills me.
Then home to a visit from
poggs. We have just been watching
100
Scary Things Uh-Huh Really on Channel 4. The viewing public has voted
Misery and Blue Velvet lesser horror
features than the video for "Where's Your Head At" by Basement Jaxx.
We have a remarkable amount to organise before Wh*tby.
redcountess has drawn up a checklist, which includes 'boobs' for
me.
[1] One wonders why one does not see more pik downmarket persons with eight or nine fingers. Not born that way, I mean.