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or 'How I Spent the Past Two Days'

It happened when I'd just arrived to Fadó Monday night, and the Gods of Parking had gifted me with the perfect place to leave my car for a little while. As I was backing up, the car stalled. This isn't new at all, I'm sort of used to it happening in reverse - I tend to release the clutch a bit gingerly when there's the possibility of me hitting something behind me.

'Oops', said I to myself, and made to start the car again. In response, it wheezed a bit and gave me a click when I was expecting the roar of an engine.

'...gnaaa?'

So I tried again.

Wheeze. Click. Nothing. I can't exactly say that the gravity of the situation began to occur to me then, 'cos it's never as though one half of the car was dangling over the edge of a steep precipice, and the other half was thinking of joining it. I was palpably aware that my car was stranded, slightly up in, in the middle of the street, and at an awkward angle. I was also aware that, as I'm not a set of twins, it would be impossible for me to shove the thing off the road and steer it at the same time. Never mind breaking. I knew, too, that I couldn't simply leave it there.

I got out and paced round it a bit, desperately wanting to do something useful to it, such as kick the tyres soundly a couple of times. 'Cos nothing says 'come to my aid, o unwitting heros', much in the way that Woman Unstuck does. As luck would have it, three people leaving the library next door saw me, and donned their capes and spandex.

It's not that I accepted their help begrudgingly, but rather...reluctantly (yet contritely). I tend to wriggle when people offer assistance, 'cos I tend to feel that I got myself into whichever predicament - I should bloody well get myself out of it, yeh? In a yet reasonably new place, this is rather a dangerous attitude, so I sucked up my chagrin at Putting Decent People Out, and soldiered on.

Once the car was no longer a danger to itself and others, I went into Fadó for a drink at to play a little while. This isn't as mad and irresponsible as it might seem. I knew that the best I could hope for was to have the thing towed back to the flat; it had already grown too late for me to find it a garage and have it sorted out. And the thought of being truly stranded had frayed my nerves a bit, and I went to steady them, so.

It was a wise decision, actually. The battery had gone flat; leaving the car to sit for a little while gave it chance to get a bit of charge. When I left two hours later, it argued with me a bit, but started. I thought 'I've got one shot, likely', and rather than going back inside to tell the people who knew that I'd be alright, I left. Here's to hoping they all understand, sort of thing.

Once I got back to the flat, Shaddow and I, via our lovely iPhones, went through the process of removing as much of the Great Massive Amounts of corrosion that had been building up since the last time I'd cleared it all away. Seriously, it looked as though it had been submerged in salt water for a decade. I think I saw some fish swimming by. Clearing it off gave me enough power to start it up the next morning, go in to the office, and then fetch it to have a new battery installed afterwards.

Only...there's a catch, innit? The thing had corroded to the extent that the positive terminal clamp was nearly useless. I drove home Tuesday night, but come Wednesday morning, my Ship Wouldn't Go. Shaddow, myself, and a neighbour remedied that with a slapdash combination of foil and sellotape. Again, I set off (you'd think I'd just stay in, yeh?)...leading up to one of the most annoying days I've had in some great while.

I'd worked out that some part of the battery cable wanted replacing. Either the entire positive-side cable, or the little terminal clamp thingummy, or the bolt that kept the terminal clamp thingummy snug against the terminal. Something had to go. It was yet up in the air as to which something. Knowing that most garages shut at 6, I'd planned to leave the office an hour earlier than usual - my father having assured me that the replacement shouldn't take longer than a quarter of an hour. So...half four arrives, and I collect up my gear and scarper for the train. When the train stops at my station, I scarper out of it, and up the stairs, and towards the carpark...

...at which point I realise that I must have left my keys on my desk.

So I scarper back to the train.

By the time I've got back to the carpark, keys in hand, I'm sure it's far too late for anything to be done, so. The aim becomes to start the car, and drive it back to the flat. And...of course the bleeding thing won't start. This time, I'm not even given a wheeze - merely a click. I missed the wheeze. That at least said to me 'I'm trying'. I had planned for this. Seriously, I had done. I'd brought tools along, which weren't entirely the best for the job, but they were the best on offer, so. I convinced the clamp to stay down round the terminal long enough to provide the requisite spark to start the car.

It was decided that I should at least go and find the proper tools, so that when this happened again between now and Saturday (which was the earliest I thought it likely the car could actually be sorted), I'd be prepared. So I drove about knowing that if the car should stall for any reason, that was likely It. Shaddow directed me the way to a shop (which also happened to be a garage), and after a brief chat with my father and Shaddow, I switched off the car and went in, thinking to buy a bolt to tighten the clamp.

Instead, my car was repaired. With a new clamp. In slightly less than a quarter hour's time. For a pittance, really. Now, am I a bit worried that I'm Speaking Too Soon? Well, sure I am a bit, but...I'm putting those worries aside. I do think it all got sorted out; now it's a matter of maintenance (lest the new battery become as much of a coral reef as the old one had done).

When I got back to the flat, I switched on my Wii, and pelted some 'tennis balls'.

Et cætera

Sep. 11th, 2009 11:09 am
youngraven: (Default)
These days I find myself at a loss for livejournal topic. It isn't as though I've been living in stasis, mind, but rather I can't form words to describe what I'm getting up to at all. You know, beyond anything that would elicit a dull, lifeless murmur of 'omg. bored now.1.1.1'  sort of thing.

I will respond to questions should anybody feel thus inclined.

Otherwise, here are a few (possibly) random bits:

The ginger's fading out of my hair. It is. I've been noticing something different about the colour of it recently, and on closer inspection, I've realised it's that some of it's gone missing. I've never been anything that one could label a proper ginger, but it was sort of the base colour upon which all of the others rested (sun exposure would bring it more forwards). Now it's becoming paler and doesn't strike the light as it once did.

Pout. Ochón. Do not want.  

*****

This morning, I sat opposite a chap got up in a crisply pressed blue shirt, smart khaki trousers, and brand-lickity-new black trainers. Nothing at all remarkable about that, yeh? Only down one side of his otherwise seriously immaculate (this bloke clearly pays to have the washing done) attire, were...tyre tread marks? Shoe prints? They were black and hatched, whatsoever caused them. I also noted a few drops of dried blood at the elbow. I wanted to say to him 'mate, what the eff happened to you?!' only he was sleeping. Or dead. I'm sure he was sleeping. Poor divil. His friday morning hadn't gone as he'd hoped. I could see the outline of his mobile in his shirt pocket, so I doubt he was robbed. My other two theories were: Skirmish with Golf Cart or Eaten by Escalator.

*****

And speaking of trains, I never quite know how to behave once I'm in one. Providing I've not a book to read, mind - then it's simple. It's never that I'm possessed of an urge to prance up and down the car butting heads with people and bleating like a mountain goat (although that would liven up the morning slog, I'm sure). Rather I don't know where to look. Out the window would be preferable, but at times that isn't possible. I try never to actually look at the other people on the train, but rather to see them by looking round them. I try to keep my expression neutral and inscrutable, but in actuality, I'm sure I wear a silly, wide-eyed, moony cow face. I'm surprised that nobody's called me 'Flossie' yet. On trains, I've found, it's difficult to retain and honour personal space.  

I'm likely giving it all too much thought.

*****

Pluots are fantastic; I highly recommend them.

*****

Spandex (which sadly has come back) remains a privilege, not a right.

*****

And speaking of fashion, the 80s have come back as well. The brightly coloured buffalo plaids, the narrow-legged blue jeasns, the lacy gloves without fingers in - the lot. I feel as though I'm running about in 1986, and you know? I'm not a bit surprised. When I think back on the colours and trends of the actual 80s, I see it all as nacre to sparkle over the limping economy and the downtrodden masses. To me, it was rather a bleak decade. When it all really hit the fan a couple of years ago, I began waiting for 80s fashion to return in earnest, and lo - it did come.

I almost fell prey to it, then I stopped myself, and said 'this didn't go so well for you when you were 13 - what do you reckon has changed'. Nothing. I blushed hard and quitely returned everything I'd collected.

*****
My flat's smart and tidy.

And that's me done for now.

Slán agaibh youse.
youngraven: (Default)
I'm flying out to see my man for the first time in a month tonight! :D

Alright,

Aug. 3rd, 2009 10:00 am
youngraven: (Default)
so I know we've all been trying to shed sunlight over our lives and others by posting bits of joy - and I'm never wanting to detract from that, surely no.

But I want my bleeding monitor. Anois, lé do thóil. Seriously, man - it's been a fortnight since I'm after writing to request it be sent here.

Where? Is? It?

You go on and on for ever about Greening Up the Space - and yet I find myself printing out pages and pages of shite that I'd not need to do if I had me damned monitor.

You have ways. Magical ones. Sure, it's the truth - you know how to make things be here instead of there. So? Cen fáth níl sé anseo?!

Grr.

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I was given a week to sort myself out before going back into the office. During that week, I spent entirely too much time and money at the shops, which made me a bit cranky. I'm not really one for 'retail therapy' - there's always the sense that I'm doing something naughty whenever I buy something.

But the fruits of those labours are:
A smartly done-up flat - I chose red and brown for my common area colours and brown, white, and lavender for the bedroom.
A well-stocked fridge and larder, and I've been putting both to grand use. SInce I'm on my own, I'm less inclined to go out to restaurants. There's something about being on my own in a restaurant that whispers 'what, haven't you got friends' in a sneering sort of way. Of course I've got friends, but they're all of them Miles Away from me at the moment, so gerroff my arse, le do thoil.
All of the boxes I brought with me unpacked but one, and I'm deciding whether I'm not going to simply fetch it back home, 'cos it's worked out that I don't actually need it here.
A pub with a seisiun located and visited. This was a need rather than a want. I'd have gone mad without it, or to seed - whichever would come first. I dreaded what I'd do with myself here come tuesday nights when I'm used to being at Gilligans. As it's worked out, I'm still fagged out from the night before, that tuesdays come and go without a pang of longing.

'Cos of course, I'm dreaming about my seisiun mates whilst I'm playing monday nights. I'm missing them in their proper context.

So, I made capital use of my first week here. I've kept the flat at a reasonable level of spic and span, of course...I've feckall else to do most nights, and doing the counters and the floors does keep a bit of the boredom at bay. It is what it is, I never mean to make a moan. I know very few people here, and none of them terribly well (but for ellayn, who's round 50 miles - I believe - east of here). I tend towards the solitary, so it's going to take a little while, am I not the sort to bound up to another person and say 'will you be my friend' (and that tends to go in the opposite way and all). It is what it is. :D

What's left to do: 
Obtain an office chair. I've got my eye on one at Ikea, only It's Big, and my little flat is reached by many steep stairs. So...I'll need some way to drag it.
Find an entryway table or a credenza, or some place to lay my hand bag, keys, and laptop satchel at night. I thought I'd the perfect solution, till it worked out that it would not fit - no how, no way. 
Affix art and photos to walls. I've got a printer, I need to connect it and print things to frame. Strangely, two things I've decided to display are photos that I shot of St Louis. I've also got two long, narrow buddhas that my father made some forty years ago. I'm not sure where they'll end up. I might put them on either side of the mirrored wall in the dining room. I'm really fond of them. 
Practise. I should do that also. My fingernails have got tellingly long, and there are other things I want to be learning. 

I think I'll print photos and practise this evening (well, practising should be every night, but I'll begin with it this evening).


  

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We left out in the early afternoon on the 3rd. Later than we'd planned to do, but it could have been worse. With such an undertaking, there's almost always something that presents itself and slows everything down. In this instance, the lights on the hired trailer needed to be properly wired to shaddowshoes's dad's car. There was also a bit of drama at the very end involving my car, a crate, and my cat; which necessitated Shaddow donning what he has dubbed 'the HAZCAT suit' (an old leather jacket and a pair of long aviator's gloves).
 
We stopped to collect lunch before driving terribly far, and then we were off. Shaddow's father and sister in the Car With the Trailer, and Shaddow and myself in the Car With the Cat. The cat required almost the entire back of car to herself (the crate we borrowed was actually a bit large - I think I could move her again with a smaller one). Ah, it wasn't an old wooden crate, mind, but rather an animal crate. I felt compeleld to clarify lest somebody (besides my cat) cry foul.

The cat travelled rather well, all things considered. Occasionally, she'd emit a confused and worried miaow, but otherwise, she was silent. Once or twice, I looked back to see her standing up in the crate and peering out through the back windscreen, watching the cars behind us. It made me think of the LOLcat image of the cat leaning out an opened car window - the one that's usually captioned 'holy crap! It's a lion! Run!' I've no idea what could have been going through her mind, but it might have gone a bit like this: AAAAHHHHH!

I mean, what would you do? 

There isn't a great lot about the way there (but not quite back again) that wants saying. It was rather a long drive and rather an uneventful one. Considering the reasons for it, I'm glad of that. Shaddow's sister had lent us the first Harry Potter audio book, and we listened to it till we decided that the reader's mellow voice was a bit too lulling. I drove for the first six hours, and Shaddow drove for the second.

We arrived at the flat and made beds for ourselves as the night was turning into dawn. The next day, we unloaded the car and the trailer, and then went to Ikea whilst we still had the use of something with which to haul large, flat objects. I've spent a great lot of time there of late, Ikea. My flat's kitted out all smart like now, so. It still needs a name. 'Mo arasán' isn't terribly inventive. It's up and down (all at once, yes) a hill, so I've considered 'Orion Heights'. Never mind that I can't see the stars for the trees. Never mind that Orion isn't exactly in the sky at the moment. It'll come to me, I'm sure. 

Saturday evening, we found a lovely place called Garrison's, and Shaddow and I fed his father and sister in thanks for their help. Everybody's seriously been amazingly helpful. I never should have made it out here otherwise. I'd been reluctant to ask, really. There was the sense of 'you got yourself into this, you get yourself out of it'. I think it was the nature of the thing, really. I've been schooled to believe that whenever a company considers redundancy, they're weeding out the weaklings first of all. I keep telling myself that this was entirely different, and that it's never a matter of sucking up consequences for Having Been Naughty. 

It's on my list of things to do whilst I out here: lighten the feck up. :D

Sunday, the trailer was dropped off, and after lingering a bit over breakfast, we bade each other a teary good-bye for now, and the three of them drove away. I found things to do. I've spent more time at the shops now than I've done in years, and you know? I'm never fonder of doing. Necessary evil, but again. Smart. Wee. Flat. If I'm to be in it for a space of time - and however long that should be - it should at least be pleasant. I chose red and brown for the living and dining area, white, brown, and purple for the bedroom, and yellow (sort of thing) for the kitchen.

Since there's never a great lot in my flat, I should never have a devil of a time keeping it tidy. That's another thing I've used to fill the time - cleaning. It doesn't hurt at all that it really only takes half an hour to smarten the place up. So. My house is larger, and therefore...
youngraven: (Default)
So, what's for nosh, then?

Whole wheat gnocchi with spinach, olives, mushrooms, and chicken, that's what. For posterity's sake (and 'cos I want to feed this to Shaddow), here is what I did:

Sauteed in olive oil:
One garlic clove
Thyme
Basil
Marjoram
'Italian seasoning'
'Pizza seasoning'
Chopped olives (and I think I'd keep it this way, 'cos it added texture, even though when I reached for the tin in the supermarket, I thought I'd laid hand to the sliced ones)
Mushrooms
Tinned chicken
Spinach
Salt

I added a bit of the water the chicken had been packed in to the gnocchi water. I doled out a serving of gnocchi into a pasta bowl, slathered a bit of the topping over it, and added a bit of shredded mozzarella to that. 

Simple and highly edible.



 
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.
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One might think I'd have little else to do but lurk round in my flat posting journal entries, and yet...

So.

It's been a month and a day since Stillwater, so it's high time I gave it at least a paragraph's worth of my effort, don't you think?

So, Stillwater...
The week before the festival, I played the seisiun at Trinity Hall. Ken did sort of a Jedi mind trick (he really did do - it was at least a 6 on the geek--o-metre - geeker counter? Sure, jeez. Argh.) on shaddowshoes and myself, and we decided that what we needed more than anything else was to run away for the weekend. With my impending slog out to Georgia...we needed time to ourselves, and driving up to Oklahoma for a few days afforded us that.

We left late in the evening Friday, and mostly enjoyed the drive - there were a few foolish traffic jams, but the first one at least afforded us the opportunity to listen to a radio programme, which we were on the cusp of being out of range to hear. It was Together Time. :) We arrived to our hotel at round 1 o-clock in the morning, and it was off to bed with us.

Yawwwn.

The Stillwater festival is...right round three years old, so it's still rather young, and thus still a bit small, but I think it shows promise. The venue is a county fair ground, and the local laws permitted that at least the lower alcohol beer could be served. A regional brewery was there flogging its wares, so I had a go at the Irish red ale. Not bad - I could tell that it wasn't as aggressive as its stronger sister would have been, but drinkable all the same. I wish I could recall the name of the brewery, but I'm fixated on Atlanta's own Sweetwater at the moment, and thus it's gone right out of my head.

You know, if the Celtic Heritage Festival could have found itself a venue such as the one that the Stillwater festival uses, it might well have made it - or at least kept its head above the water. (Incidentally, I've heard rumour of a new festival in Denton - anybody who went out to it, do tell me what you thought of it, please.) But no matter, yeh? What's done is done.

The programming tracks were a bit off and Ken's booth was situated near to a stage (but then, there was a stage in each of the spaces used, so I don't know how that could be avoided), which meant that his idea of stopping at his booth and playing when he hadn't another commitment wasn't going to come to pass. I think we had a reasonable number of people wander by and ask about the retreat, so. I couldn't give an actual number, 'cos I ended up sitting in with a local band during their sets, so there were a few hours in which I wasn't there watching the crowd.

It was lovely when there was time for choonz, however, and I much enjoyed playing with Bill and Patti from Arizona. I'd met them at a Trinity seisiun before, but I think we all had a better time this go. Shaddow and myself stayed at the hotel seisiun till we were faced with 'leave now, or curl up into a corner and go unconcious'. Gone are the days that I could play marathon seisiunna and...well...keep playing. By the end of the weekend, the back of my hand was bruised and a bit blistered. One does suffer, yeh.

Kevin was there as well, and it's also really grand to play with him; he's a fantastic guitarist. He told me that he'd spent rather some time in Vinings (my current neighbourhood), and offered up a few recommendations. The Old Vinings Inn topped his list; I've yet to go there, but perhaps in September when Shaddow and Yo come for a visit.

We lingered sunday till mid afternoon. Shaddow bought some wine from a local winery, and we wandered back home at something of a leisurely pace.

Then, it was back to reality and the last of the packing. What do you do, eh?
youngraven: (Default)
 ...in Atlanta now for right round a week. I'll not have internet access at the flat till friday, so any updates I've got will be sporadic. Suffice it to say, myself and my cat made it here hale and sound. 

More when I've got the chance.

Cheers dears,

G

youngraven: (Default)
 So. 

I'm not planning to take much reading material beyond my Irish books to Georgia, 'cos...I'm not keen on slogging a great many objects out there that I'll have to be bringing back with me upon my return (whenever that might be - I say this lest anybody think I've a hard and fast time limit). This isn't to say that I'm choosing to foreswear reading; I'll be obtaining a library card posthaste - likely within the first week of me being there.

Since I know that I'll be a bit shellshocked at first, I'm compiling a reading list, and I'm asking for suggestions. 

What I'm planning to read thus far:
'Whisky Galore' - Compton MacKenzie
'In Search of Albion' - Colin Irwin (if I can find it)
Many books by Bill Bryson 
'Cold Beer and Crocodiles' - Roff Smith
'Tallulah' - Tallulah Bankhead
'Wonderful Tonight' - Pattie Boyd
'I Was Told There'd Be Cake' - Sloane Crosley

At least to start. I'd other possibilities in my mind, but I can't quite think of them now. I'll recall them when I see them. So...suggestions are grand. My tastes tend towards non-fiction and I suppose 'mystical realism'. I'm fond of Margaret Atwood, Salman Rushdie, and Yann Martel. I'm curious about Umberto Eco and Doris Lessing. I'm not keen on vampires or erotica.

Thanks very much in advance. :D 




 



youngraven: (Default)
 So. 

I'm not planning to take much reading material beyond my Irish books to Georgia, 'cos...I'm not keen on slogging a great many objects out there that I'll have to be bringing back with me upon my return (whenever that might be - I say this lest anybody think I've a hard and fast time limit). This isn't to say that I'm choosing to foreswear reading; I'll be obtaining a library card posthaste - likely within the first week of me being there.

Since I know that I'll be a bit shellshocked at first, I'm compiling a reading list, and I'm asking for suggestions. 

What I'm planning to read thus far:
'Whisky Galore' - Compton MacKenzie
'In Search of Albion' - Colin Irwin (if I can find it)
Many books by Bill Bryson 
'Cold Beer and Crocodiles' - Roff Smith
'Tallulah' - Tallulah Bankhead
'Wonderful Tonight' - Pattie Boyd
'I Was Told There'd Be Cake' - Sloane Crosley

At least to start. I'd other possibilities in my mind, but I can't quite think of them now. I'll recall them when I see them. So...suggestions are grand. My tastes tend towards non-fiction and I suppose 'mystical realism'. I'm fond of Margaret Atwood, Salman Rushdie, and Yann Martel. I'm curious about Umberto Eco and Doris Lessing. I'm not keen on vampires or erotica.

Thanks very much in advance. :D 




 



youngraven: (Default)

The past few days have gone thusly...

Klaatu verada nicto
Shaddow and I had an impromptu The Day the Earth Stood Still weekend. We saw the original friday night and the remake Sunday afternoon. The first one told the stronger story, I think. Sure, the notion that humanity could Completely Bollox the Planet For Ever is a bit alarming...but it's vague. When the first one was released (1951), Hiroshima and Nagasaki were still very recent events, and...it made more sense for an alien species to be worried about the potential for humanity to leave the planet and attack them. Gort also made more sense as an enforcer, than as...a big thing...made of metal...bees. :\ On the whole, they were both entertaining, and they did also make for conversation afterwards.

Project Peaches
Most of my entries for the next few months will have something to do with Atlanta, so. My office is almost entirely packed. I've been sealling and labelling boxes. It's my tentative plan to actually quit the space Friday and telecommute for the rest of my time. That will allow me a bit more time to pack up what I'm bringing with me. In theory. It might be that I spend most of the time I save playing my drum.

Speaking of my bodhrán...
My, my, my. I've got rusty. It isn't as though I Stopped Playing, 'cos I've never done that. I've...I don't know - I'm too distracted to play well? Is that possible? I know that my meaningful practises have fallen by the wayside with everything else I've got to do, so...I could do with a bit more practise. I mean, I've actually got a blister on the top of my hand where my crossbrace bit me. This is a thing that does not occur when I've been applying myself, so.

Going mobile
My sister in law has lent me her old Treo. I can now send text messages without it taking entire quarter hours to form simple words. I've been playing with it.

Seisiunna
See the bit above about me needing to practise. I really don't want to go into any new seisiunna with this seeming lack of control.

And...I think that's the lot for me. I'd thought I'd have many things to say about many other things, and no.
youngraven: (Default)

The past few days have gone thusly...

Klaatu verada nicto
Shaddow and I had an impromptu The Day the Earth Stood Still weekend. We saw the original friday night and the remake Sunday afternoon. The first one told the stronger story, I think. Sure, the notion that humanity could Completely Bollox the Planet For Ever is a bit alarming...but it's vague. When the first one was released (1951), Hiroshima and Nagasaki were still very recent events, and...it made more sense for an alien species to be worried about the potential for humanity to leave the planet and attack them. Gort also made more sense as an enforcer, than as...a big thing...made of metal...bees. :\ On the whole, they were both entertaining, and they did also make for conversation afterwards.

Project Peaches
Most of my entries for the next few months will have something to do with Atlanta, so. My office is almost entirely packed. I've been sealling and labelling boxes. It's my tentative plan to actually quit the space Friday and telecommute for the rest of my time. That will allow me a bit more time to pack up what I'm bringing with me. In theory. It might be that I spend most of the time I save playing my drum.

Speaking of my bodhrán...
My, my, my. I've got rusty. It isn't as though I Stopped Playing, 'cos I've never done that. I've...I don't know - I'm too distracted to play well? Is that possible? I know that my meaningful practises have fallen by the wayside with everything else I've got to do, so...I could do with a bit more practise. I mean, I've actually got a blister on the top of my hand where my crossbrace bit me. This is a thing that does not occur when I've been applying myself, so.

Going mobile
My sister in law has lent me her old Treo. I can now send text messages without it taking entire quarter hours to form simple words. I've been playing with it.

Seisiunna
See the bit above about me needing to practise. I really don't want to go into any new seisiunna with this seeming lack of control.

And...I think that's the lot for me. I'd thought I'd have many things to say about many other things, and no.
youngraven: (Default)
I've been up to ninety with everything, so I'll offer up a brief synopsis (at least, it's my goal to be brief). I'll go into more detail as the mood strikes me and I've got the time.

Project Peaches
I recently made a trek out to Atlanta in search of a place to inhabit. I found a flat in Vinings, and I've got the keys to it in my handbag. The people at the complex were kind enough to give me two keys to my flat and my post box and two gate cards. I'll be leaving one set with Shaddow so that he can drop round whenever he sees fit. He can show up and let himself in; I'd be overjoyed, and I might be moved to make him an omelette. Or something.

If you fancy my Georgia details, email me. 

I've also begun the packing phase of Project Peaches. It's difficult. The site of boxes stacked up in my house troubles me. 

Anniversary
Whilst in Georgia, Shaddow and I celebrated our tenth. We went to a lovely place called Canoe in Vinings, where I'll be 'posted'. It was bittersweet, considering why we were there, but I am looking forward to a visit from him and a chance to go back. We were both very pleased with it - and it's very near the river. 

A-Kon
I got a plaque with my name on for services rendered. I often make jokes about polishing a plaque with my name on being my penitence in hell. I surely doubt the two are related. Erm...there was a revelation I'd had about this past weekend in regards to that, and now I can't recall it to save my life. /Shrug/ 

Oh - the convention chairbeing (her word) Gots a Brand New Toy. It's a small box that scatters wee green laser stars (that move) across a darkened surface (and rather a large one and all). She can also flip a switch that adds a blue nebula sort of thing to it. I lay on the floor in her room gazing ('cos one doesn't stare at this sort of thing, no, one gazes) at the busy green sparkles, and...I wish I had one. It's very meditative. I was envious.

But for the hotel bolloxing up the room keys (they'd work for a quarter of an hour, and then they'd stop working - it was a pain in the head), we suffered very minimal angst or pathos. 

Seisiun
I should play whilst I've got the chance, and that requires me Sitting Still, which I did very little of tuesday night. I've got one more THSP seisiun (at least for a little while) on the 14th, come out and see me before I set sail, sort of thing.

youngraven: (Default)
I've been up to ninety with everything, so I'll offer up a brief synopsis (at least, it's my goal to be brief). I'll go into more detail as the mood strikes me and I've got the time.

Project Peaches
I recently made a trek out to Atlanta in search of a place to inhabit. I found a flat in Vinings, and I've got the keys to it in my handbag. The people at the complex were kind enough to give me two keys to my flat and my post box and two gate cards. I'll be leaving one set with Shaddow so that he can drop round whenever he sees fit. He can show up and let himself in; I'd be overjoyed, and I might be moved to make him an omelette. Or something.

If you fancy my Georgia details, email me. 

I've also begun the packing phase of Project Peaches. It's difficult. The site of boxes stacked up in my house troubles me. 

Anniversary
Whilst in Georgia, Shaddow and I celebrated our tenth. We went to a lovely place called Canoe in Vinings, where I'll be 'posted'. It was bittersweet, considering why we were there, but I am looking forward to a visit from him and a chance to go back. We were both very pleased with it - and it's very near the river. 

A-Kon
I got a plaque with my name on for services rendered. I often make jokes about polishing a plaque with my name on being my penitence in hell. I surely doubt the two are related. Erm...there was a revelation I'd had about this past weekend in regards to that, and now I can't recall it to save my life. /Shrug/ 

Oh - the convention chairbeing (her word) Gots a Brand New Toy. It's a small box that scatters wee green laser stars (that move) across a darkened surface (and rather a large one and all). She can also flip a switch that adds a blue nebula sort of thing to it. I lay on the floor in her room gazing ('cos one doesn't stare at this sort of thing, no, one gazes) at the busy green sparkles, and...I wish I had one. It's very meditative. I was envious.

But for the hotel bolloxing up the room keys (they'd work for a quarter of an hour, and then they'd stop working - it was a pain in the head), we suffered very minimal angst or pathos. 

Seisiun
I should play whilst I've got the chance, and that requires me Sitting Still, which I did very little of tuesday night. I've got one more THSP seisiun (at least for a little while) on the 14th, come out and see me before I set sail, sort of thing.

youngraven: (cuppa)
Nosh
Tonight's enchiladas went well enough...I tend to think they were a bit dry, and perhaps I shouldn't have waited to add the sauce. I was a bit worried that I'd scorch it, but...upon further consideration, I don't think I'd have done. Flavour-wise, it all came together well, and there wasn't terribly much assembly involved. I'd do it again. I've got all of the ingredients to make another batch, so it's likely I will do it again, and soon, providing something else doesn't come to my mind to try with it all first. 

Brain
I've got 'The Girl from Ipanema' cycling its way through my grey matter, thanks to being 'kidnapped' to Rio on Facebook. 
Sing it with me:
Dark and tan and 
Young and lovely the
Girl from Ipanema goes walking
And when she passes each one
She passes goes 'Aaaaaaah'. 


Or something to that effect. I could go and look up the proper lyrics to it, but Shan't Do. So. 

Puzzlement
Why does my formatting disappear whenever I do something new to my entry? Seriously. If I change a heading to bold, and then later some text to italics, the bold goes away. It's mad. And a puzzlement. And annoying. 

Aeroplane
I should be packing up for our trek out to Atlanta for the fact-finding phase of Project Peaches. Instead, I'm drinking in the bar and writing journal entries about things I should be doing. I should be doing the washing up as well. 'Cos...I'd rather not leave it as it is for the weekend. It'll take over the house and drive the cars into a tree. The same tree. At the same time. Shaddow and I have bought identical rolling rucksacks for ourselves. They're quite clever, and we're rather pleased. They'll serve as a place to stash clothing and a laptop bag. They're grand. They're blue. 

Peachy
The fellow from Promove wrote to me again. I gave him the short list of places I'm going to have a look at this weekend. Perhaps that'll get him off my back. Ha. I keep re-thinking what I should/shouldn't want to take with me. Nothing I'd want to bring back, I'm thinking. Large things, I mean. Art supplies, clothing, bodhran, that lot - sure, I'll be bringing that back with me. Furniture, on the other hand...Jesus, why do it twice? I had thought that I'd take nothing at all, and find things there via charity shops and Craigslist, now I'm wondering whether I shouldn't bring a few things that Orion Rising could do with replacing (or without altogether). Of course, it isn't as though we couldn't sell or donate those things here... I need to take a decision one way or the other and quickly. By Monday, I'll say. 

Ceol
I've found another seisiun at a place in Douglasville on Wednesday nights. I think this one will be a bit more like the Gilligan's one. I can go and play there, and then go to the Fado one to listen. I'm not terribly keen on showing up to Fado without an invitation. Rick did say that he'd make a long-distance introduction, so...perhaps I needn't worry, and that would mean two seisiunna I could play every week. :D

That would be grand. :D I practised a bit tonight, not my bodhran playing, mind (which at the moment needs the most work, argh. I've hit a wall. There. I've said it - I move past it now), but practise all the same. My voice is squeaky. Much in the way a capybara's might be.
'SQUEAK.'
'Alright, I believe you.'

Sort of thing. 

Orion Rising
Is it mad of me to want to clean the place up spic and span before I go? Seriously? Am I making strife for myself? I'm thinking in the future to the holidays, and when I'll be back, and how I'll never want to have to fuck with it then, and...various and sundry other things, 'cos my time will all be compressed, and the filing's a bit mad - and can you see how frenetic this sentence has become? Sure, right. :| I'll have to make a list, I will. One of things to do and things that I shouldn't be bothering with. Packing should be on that list. Can I tell you how little I wish to take on that task? Seriously? Good God. 


So. There's where it all stands. I suppose I should go and prepare for tomorrow. 

Slan go foill...


youngraven: (Default)
Nosh
Tonight's enchiladas went well enough...I tend to think they were a bit dry, and perhaps I shouldn't have waited to add the sauce. I was a bit worried that I'd scorch it, but...upon further consideration, I don't think I'd have done. Flavour-wise, it all came together well, and there wasn't terribly much assembly involved. I'd do it again. I've got all of the ingredients to make another batch, so it's likely I will do it again, and soon, providing something else doesn't come to my mind to try with it all first. 

Brain
I've got 'The Girl from Ipanema' cycling its way through my grey matter, thanks to being 'kidnapped' to Rio on Facebook. 
Sing it with me:
Dark and tan and 
Young and lovely the
Girl from Ipanema goes walking
And when she passes each one
She passes goes 'Aaaaaaah'. 


Or something to that effect. I could go and look up the proper lyrics to it, but Shan't Do. So. 

Puzzlement
Why does my formatting disappear whenever I do something new to my entry? Seriously. If I change a heading to bold, and then later some text to italics, the bold goes away. It's mad. And a puzzlement. And annoying. 

Aeroplane
I should be packing up for our trek out to Atlanta for the fact-finding phase of Project Peaches. Instead, I'm drinking in the bar and writing journal entries about things I should be doing. I should be doing the washing up as well. 'Cos...I'd rather not leave it as it is for the weekend. It'll take over the house and drive the cars into a tree. The same tree. At the same time. Shaddow and I have bought identical rolling rucksacks for ourselves. They're quite clever, and we're rather pleased. They'll serve as a place to stash clothing and a laptop bag. They're grand. They're blue. 

Peachy
The fellow from Promove wrote to me again. I gave him the short list of places I'm going to have a look at this weekend. Perhaps that'll get him off my back. Ha. I keep re-thinking what I should/shouldn't want to take with me. Nothing I'd want to bring back, I'm thinking. Large things, I mean. Art supplies, clothing, bodhran, that lot - sure, I'll be bringing that back with me. Furniture, on the other hand...Jesus, why do it twice? I had thought that I'd take nothing at all, and find things there via charity shops and Craigslist, now I'm wondering whether I shouldn't bring a few things that Orion Rising could do with replacing (or without altogether). Of course, it isn't as though we couldn't sell or donate those things here... I need to take a decision one way or the other and quickly. By Monday, I'll say. 

Ceol
I've found another seisiun at a place in Douglasville on Wednesday nights. I think this one will be a bit more like the Gilligan's one. I can go and play there, and then go to the Fado one to listen. I'm not terribly keen on showing up to Fado without an invitation. Rick did say that he'd make a long-distance introduction, so...perhaps I needn't worry, and that would mean two seisiunna I could play every week. :D

That would be grand. :D I practised a bit tonight, not my bodhran playing, mind (which at the moment needs the most work, argh. I've hit a wall. There. I've said it - I move past it now), but practise all the same. My voice is squeaky. Much in the way a capybara's might be.
'SQUEAK.'
'Alright, I believe you.'

Sort of thing. 

Orion Rising
Is it mad of me to want to clean the place up spic and span before I go? Seriously? Am I making strife for myself? I'm thinking in the future to the holidays, and when I'll be back, and how I'll never want to have to fuck with it then, and...various and sundry other things, 'cos my time will all be compressed, and the filing's a bit mad - and can you see how frenetic this sentence has become? Sure, right. :| I'll have to make a list, I will. One of things to do and things that I shouldn't be bothering with. Packing should be on that list. Can I tell you how little I wish to take on that task? Seriously? Good God. 


So. There's where it all stands. I suppose I should go and prepare for tomorrow. 

Slan go foill...


youngraven: (Default)

I spent today clearing out my office. Well, at least boxing most of it all up. I seriously doubt I'll have a dire need for my bric-a-brac between now and July, so.

It's something off the list. I've officially begun packing, as it were.

I also cleared up a few things I'd been worried about, so...I suppose that's off the list as well.

I'm very near to deciding that I'm going to bring only the barest minimum of things with me: kitchen supplies, clothing, cat (one), instruments (three), art supplies, laptop. 

Everything else, I'll obtain from charity shops once there. Furniture, bedding, cat supplies (well, I'll not get those from a charity shop - I don't think she'd go for that), bicycle. 'Cos...why bring things that I'm keen on and will want to bring back with me? You know, when I could leave that lot all here, and do my flat up in shite I'll feel no trouble in divesting myself of once the time comes to return.

I've pared my office files down to one mere archival box. Frankly, I don't think I need pages and pages of PageMaker 6.5 lessons. Right. Everything I think I'll have a need for is now tucked away in wee boxes tidily stacked beneath my desk.

But for the 'pen' to my Wacom tablet. God knows where it is. I've got the base that the pen goes into, but the pen itself? You know, the thing that I need to make the tablet function? Noticeably absent. It would have been mad of me to have chucked it away. Seriously. However, I might have done, thinking that I'd never find a way to make this 14-year-old (yet a perfectly fine size) serial Wacom tablet work with anything I've got now. Here's to hoping I've merely stashed it someplace creative, and that once I've gone through the entire lot of it all, I'll find it stuck to something. Or in something. Or under something - the possibilities being endless.

Things I need to find out about: electricity/gas, water, recycling, internet. Oh, and whether I should buy a MARTA pass and/or the cost of the average carpark near to Peachtree Tower. I'm sort of leaning towards MARTA on most days. If it works out that I can seisiun at Fadó at Monday nights (my friend, Rick, says 'no worries', but I'm reserving judgement, 'cos I prefer to do that than to assume), I doubt I'd rely on MARTA, 'cos what if it gets really late, yeh?

Well, it's friday evening, and the week has been long and a bit unfortunate (no details, sorry), so I think I'll consider myself done here for the day and wander home.

youngraven: (Off Centre)
...before I shove off for the evening.

Morning aggro
When I opened my office door this morning, I discovered that somebody had wedged a cart stacked with office detritus behind my chair. I'd been given a message to the effect of 'the area formerly known as Graphics has been cleared out - all of this is yours. Fetch out of the warehouse, please'. Only it never made it there, did it? 'Cos somebody stuffed it into my room.

The punchline? None of it actually belonged to me.

Books
I've read three books recently. One, a blast from the past; one, a waste of my time (largely); and one, about a walk in the woods. The first in the list was The Wonderful Flight to the Mushroom Planet by Eleanor Cameron.  When I was younger (I don't recall my actual age - 8? 9?), I was mad for Mushroom Planet books. They are all mostly out of print now and considered collectible. I don't think libraries have them anymore - not when they can fetch hundreds on Amazon.com.

The second in the list was Help Me, I'm Irish by Ray Hamill. The excerpt I'd read was amusing - seriously. I thought I'd stumbled over a gem. And then it arrived, and...well, I realise I'm never to judge a book by its cover, but the instant the thing was out of the box and into my hands I thought 'oh...this is a vanity pressing'. Now then, I've read a vanity pressing book before...and it wasn't terribly well-written as far as its language crafting was concerned. But the story that the woman told (she was a homesteader in Alaska in the 60s) was so unique and fascinating that I ignored the shortcomings. This thing by Ray Hamill? My. Somebody should have stopped you, mate. Seriously. He could have made it a genuine autobiography (rather than inventing a character and hiding behind him), and it would have had more merit. But. He didn't do that, and...he didn't exactly have a story to tell most of the time. And he includes this preface which is lengthy and too explanatory and...he insists upon using 'damn' when it should be 'damned' - and that gets up my nose. Oh, and he writes in eye dialect for his Irish characters. It's a spike to the head. Alright, they're from Dublin, we get it. Sure, jeez.

I'm going to foist the book off on somebody else tonight. Somebody who I suspect will appreciate it far more than myself. :|

The third in the list was A Walk in the Woods (see, told you) by Bill Bryson. In it, he tells the story of the time that he and his mate hiked the Appalachian Trail just for the craic. At the very end of the book, the publisher had a list of his other works, which I plan to read. Highly entertaining, and I learnt that a bear will eat you if you take a Snickers bar into the woods. So don't do that. I recommend it for those of you in need of a bit of non-fiction.

It's even a longer way to Tipperary, now
It's true. The Tipp is shutting. Tim, the chap who took it over from Martin all those years ago, sent round a message to the effect of 'we've had a good run, but'. I'm dismayed. Seriously. The Tipp afforded the local Irish scene a fantastic place to play. People were encouraged to come out for the ceol as well as the craic. Sure, I have spent more time of late at Trinity Hall, but that's largely 'cos I had sort of a regular gig there.

The original Tipperary was my first seisiun and where I met [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes . I've seen it through all of its iterations and owners, and we've lost something needful here. It was a noteworthy thing to have played the Tipp. I'm really pleased to say that I have done, and I'm terribly sorry to see it go.

Project Peaches
I've made a few contacts in Atlanta. [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes and I are going out to look round in a fortnight. We'll spend our tenth anniversary there, which is a bit bittersweet. I've, sight unseen, decided to look for a flat in Vinings. It's near to the river (one block of flats has got a fishing pier and a place to put in a canoe or kayak - I worry that it's entirely too costly to live there, but I am so intrigued), it seems a cosy place, I like the sound of the name 'Vinings', and it's not so far from the city proper that I'll spend the rest of my days stuck in traffic. I've heard that the traffic in Atlanta is horrid, but it's fairly rotten here as well, so... Who knows, right?

I've made myself a Google map with colour-coded 'pins' in to show where I plan to look. I've also got a list of flats, &c saved to a web site, so I've been doing rather a bit of work on that score. I've yet to begin packing, 'cos... sigh. I don't think that needs explanation, really.

And with that, I'm heading off to seisiun.

Slán go foill...

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