youngraven: (Default)
...that I should rise, and youse should not.

I'm sure this would have all been more poignant had it been written (I almost stopped at 'writ'. Sure, jeez. Hallo, Georgia; good-bye, grammar) at the time, but life intervened, so.

My 'American wake'
I'm for ever at trying to work out what is or isn't proper human behaviour, so when some of my seisiun mates offered to give me a sending off, I said 'no', thinking it would be cheeky of me to allow such a thing. You know, never mind that other people do it all the fecking time. It's grand for them, yeh? It's a mortal bleeding sin when I do it. :P I came to my senses, relented, and stopped arguing.

So, round a fortnight before I (will attempt to finish this sentence without resorting to nautical metaphor) drove away (ah, success), my seisiun mates gave me a send off. There was cake. It had a bodhrán on and it was amaretto flavoured, and had some sort of raspberry sauce in. :D I don't...actually think we finished it up.

:S

But...it was lovely, and they gave me a plaque with my name on (it's sort of an inside joke), and there are photos to be seen off at my Facebook. I'd post a link to them here, but I've got my settings such that they'd not come over. Necessary evil, sort of thing.

We played and drank and ate cake, and...did a bit more of the same after that. Craig was there, and I got to tell him all about meeting his mate, Duncan, here in Atlanta (we really all do know each other) and the stories that Duncan told us about Craig in his teenaged, mountaineering days back in Scotland. Good times.

The next tuesday, I lingered a little while to natter with mishajames and Tyson, then bade them goodnight, and that was that. I think of the lot of them fondly monday nights.

And, no, I didn't offer up 'The Parting Glass'. Snort.
youngraven: (Default)
Lest you forget...

Spriggan
J. Gilligan's
Friday
4 May 2007
8pm-10pm
We'll be on the stage in the original (restaurant) side.


Peace out, slán go foill, and mind the gap,
Spriggan
youngraven: (sprig)
Spriggan are ending the month of April with a bang at the Tipperary Inn and beginning the month of May with a boom at Gilligan's.

Spriggan
The Tipperary Inn (see the link above, please, for directions, &c.)
Saturday
28 April 2007
8pm -12am

This will be the third anniversary of the Tipp's re-entry into the land of the living. So come out, gawk at us, and tell Tim the Owner how much you love him.

Spriggan (again)
J.Gilligan's (again, see the link above...)
Friday
4 May 2007
8pm-10pm
We'll be on the stage in the original (restaurant) side.

The Gilligan's one is subject to change, so check our web site, please, for any updates.

Peace out, slán go foill, and mind the gap,
Spriggan
youngraven: (bang!)
...and I've not got any cunning tricks to play on anybody. Since it'll be tomorrow likely before I've done with this entry, I don't much care.

So.

Jesus, I'm fucking knackered.

But no matter, eh? Since Chris's missus (ah, a rhyme) had a mishap with one of the Arterburn vehicles, he stayed home. So the rest of us decided to piss off out of rehearsal as well. We went to Gilligans instead to hear a fellow play whom Don (person who haunts the Tuesday seisiun) told us about. The fellow is recording an 'Irish album' and might be interested in hiring studio musicians. Sure, it never hurts to make a new contact. Well, unless that new contact hates you instantly and vows to piss over your name with the harshest of words whenever it's mentioned.

Fortunately, that didn't happen last night. He was brilliant, the rest of the band were brilliant, and...alright, so I'm not going into a great deal of detail, but this fellow's well known. He's late of Capitol Records. He's potentially a Very Good Contact. Hence the reason I'll keep his name to myself, thank you very much. But at any rate, cross your appendages. He might come to the Tuesday night seisiun. I should wear something that whispers here is a vocalist worthy of your time.

He's recently decided to learn about his own Irish heritage.

So that was Friday night.

Today, is yet Saturday. Today, a group of us hiked the Knob Hill Trail. It wasn't terribly punishing, I mean, most of us are feeling the effects of having taken a bit of exercise, but I'd say the hike in to Caprock was rougher terrain. Shorter, but rougher. This was the first time I'd taken my hiking boots on an actual hike, and they fared well (good thing, eh?). Poor Bill's boots didn't. They lost their soles, and he had to stumble about erm...soleless. Yeh, we made the joke too, but go on. Let loose your dogs. There's a brook that runs down to the lake along the trail. I want to bring my kayak out the next time. I mean, hiking is all well and good, but mermaids require water to survive.

Sleepy.

After the hike, we went our ways. [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes and I went out for Tex-Mex, and we had a lovely time despite being thoroughly fagged out. He's been a bit of a sicky-lick, so his energy level was in the negative numbers. He's working on his web site now. I imagine he'll wander in to bed soon. We've decided we'll not do much tomorrow.

So, there's the most of the weekend. I never know how to end these things. I know they should have some sort of closing statement. Something witty and summarising, but not at all typical. I'm tempted to end each entry with something surreal and nonsensical.

Fish!

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