Up. Date.

Jun. 27th, 2007 05:58 pm
youngraven: (Boingy!)
Here are a succession of (reasonably) brief updates. Each will be concealled behind a cut tag. 'Cos. Mangia.

Monitor = Banjaxed )

At this moment, I am perusing a Music Library for a corporate 'film festival'. 'Cos I'm apparently a masochist, I've clicked the 'Celtic rock' link, and I'm listening to one fellow's idea of how that genre sounds. I want to run round in circles and chew the paint from the walls. Thanks very much for listening and understanding.

Keeping up with the katjabees )

Aye. Avast. Et Cetera. )

My car can swim )

In round an hour, [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes and I leave for the Police concert. :D
youngraven: (Default)
...I'd rather be done with the month of March now, please. I know, I know - it's supposed the be the Bestest Month Ever!111!!1zomg*!!! for Irish musicians, And Yet.

Sure, it hasn't been as though the moon fell out of the sky and smashed half the world flat and made the other half to resort to cannibalism to survive, but it's been rather a difficult month, and I'm ready for the 'out like a lamb' part of it.

Irish Fest flattened me (and even more than I'd realised), and all that I did there was to mind instrument check-in, play at the O'Flaherty booth, and help [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes to set up and strike his two stages. In an entire weekend, that isn't really a great deal. Only I caught plague (or whatever), didn't I? Thus I spent an entire day afterwards almost completely flat.

I'm one of the foolish sorts of people who tends to carry on with whatever I feel I should be doing regardless of how I may be feeling. Usually, I can get away with it, only not this time. In stead of expelling the invaders and utterly quelling any remaining splinter factions, I managed only to press the Plague into hiding.

It regrouped, gained strength, bought itself new uniforms and fired off a salvo that took out my forwards guard. The smiling, tie-wearing doctor at the quack shack labelled it 'bronchitis'.

But I don't smoke, sez I, which obviously fell on deaf ears, and last night I was told by a friend's son that smoking doesn't cause bronchitis. Well, I suppose I knew that, but I did think it made one more likely to suffer from it. At any rate, I'm being plied with medicine, so with any luck I'll have chased it away by Saturday night.

This has been our very first weekend in nigh unto a month that we've had no pressing obligations. So...yesterday, we went to see Michelle's daughter's film ('BITCH' - it's hystaerical), and afterwards we drove to meet with friends.

Today, after a long and pleasantly spent morning, [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes went off to help a friend update a Macintosh, and I vowed not to do anything, really. Last night, Becky had warned me that I might be fighting this nonsense for weeks if I don't keep still for a little while, and it's got to be gone by Saturday night (which likely means I shouldn't go to seisiun this week. Grr). So...my, it's getting late, and I'm starting to lose my point (silence, youse).

At any rate, as I was lolling about and drinking tea, I had a peek at my email - 'cos that isn't actually doing anything, now is it - and in said email was a message from a friend that I'd lost contact with more than a decade ago (and she's got an LJ).

She's married and living in Seattle now, and I'm looking forward to reconnecting.

The evening was spent at Trinity Hall, as it was Linda's birthday, and she needed to be lavished with baubles, beads, and Irish coffee.

* Yes, I actually did employ the phrase 'zomg'. What?
youngraven: (sprig)
Well, both are as Irish as the other, and all are welcome here:

[livejournal.com profile] typsygypsy made it. She's the bloody cleverest. :D
youngraven: (whack-fol-lol-de-ra)
calls for Whee with a 35% chance of Splat.

This morning, I opened up my bodhrán case to fetch out the shirt that [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes had bought for me at the O'Flaherty benefit Friday night. 'Oh. It's you,' my bodhrán muttered somewhat balefully. I ignored it and pulled out the shirt.

This isn't to say that the thrill has gone from our relationship, but rather that we spent a bit too much time with each other this weekend (as my bruised knuckles can attest). I'll go to seisiun Tuesday night, but till then, my bodhrán and I will be taking a slight break from one another.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, sort of thing.

Witty cut tag )

We ended our evening at PeiWei, having an interesting chat about the Irish music scene and what it's done to us.

Peace out, slan go foill, and mind the gap.
Or don't mind the gap - it's up to you really.
youngraven: (whack-fol-lol-de-ra)
And I wonder what my plants are getting up to. No, you don't understand - I'm really honestly wondering what my plants are getting up to. I'm hoping I'll not be in for a nasty shock come Monday.

Christ on a bicycle, this keyboard is a nightmare. You're all dead grateful that I edit as I type. Oish.

Saturday (you know, 'cos truthfully it's over)
Barbecue with the Clan MacLeod (no honest, and yes they can be killed like anybody else). Seisiun. Lawn games. Moose eating. Sez I to Michael concerning somebody else: He needs to eff the fuck right off. Killer eloquent (killer elephants?).

BEHAN at the Tipperary. You're a jolly little fascist, aren't you? quipped behind the back of a confused IRA-skinhead fellow. Smithwick's. Irony. We need to play more rebel songs.

And that's the lot, youse. Don't choke on it.


Dec. 7th, 2005 12:24 pm
youngraven: (Default)
The seisiun at the Blarney Stone has been revived (clear! KERZAP!). We've changed it to Sunday afternoons - it seems to prefer it that way. Having a different seisiun to go to with different players makes for a pleasant change. To be true, there's nobody there that I've not played with before, but it's been some time. It would be brilliant if Melina and Marla were to come round.

Actually, there was one fellow I'd never played with before. I've seen him round the community for ten years (at least), but we'd never found ourselves in the same seisiun. He gave me and my bodhran a look of terror. 'Eh, don't worry I do know how to play it - more or less'. He sputtered a bit, and Tom says 'Na, she's almost good' and then turns to me and says 'and that's the highest compliment you can ever expect'. I laughed and said 'I aspire to be competent'. 'Ah, "aspire",' he says - as though I've done something clever.

You get used to the abuse.

I'm fond of the Blarney Stone. It's small and dark ('intimate' in posh terms), and the floor is so hard abd cold that you'd be dashed to bits if you fell from your stool, but there's often nobody there but ourselves on a Sunday afternoon. You try explaining why you won't be playing 'I've Got Friends in Low Places' to a group of drunk fellows wearing cowboy hats.

It was pleasant and afterwards we went for Mongolian. I remembered why I should always expect that Ruth will catch me unawares. I should school myself to leave the shocked expressions home.

So...on to Tuesday. Shaddow and I were tired and listless for Tuesday's seisiun. I think I'd have done better if I'd listened. My contribution to the craic was less than 90. It wasn't 12, but it wasn't 90. So we left an hour early. We also forgot to settle with the barmaid, so there will be much genuflecting and acts of penance done next week. Oops.


youngraven: (Default)

April 2013

789 10111213


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 23rd, 2017 06:06 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios