this is about the last few days. might make sense. I don't know. on friday I met two in edinburgh and took them to west calder. we listened to some nice music on the way. in my opinion. and I drove safely. in my opinion. we got [to my] home and sat. we chatted. we telephoned another. a lovely girl. and we said silly things to her and she pretended to have nothing to say. we went back into edinburgh by train. and to a pub in the grassmarket. the one I always seem to end up in if I go out in edinburgh. no rhyme or reason. hm. there's no reason. and we had drinks and met a friend and we chatted and there was talk of some music too. and we got some chips from the castlerock fish-bar. well, WE did. HE got a single smoked sausage. I wish my accent could be as posh. soon a man with a beard and no moustache with newly FIXED [by Jesus] asthma and hernia told us our chips were not from the castlerock fish-bar at all; they were a gift from God. I just remembered: he said that hadn't taken his tablets for a week. at home another outgoing telephone call and one incoming. or more. perhaps. I forget. I might have said things that people might have not understood. this shouldn't be held against me. don't. but fun. then a picnic. all the people arrived. in dribs and drabs. but no drabs. and we walked out and sat in princes street gardens and stuff. by the fountain. near the carousel. which we never went on. I wanted to. but it slipped my mind. there was more slipping a little later. the grass was dry. we had sun. briefly. we ate food and chatted and all. a bottle of wine. for me. and I gave G.E.A. some badges and she gave out three presents from a lovely greek girl and I got to choose first and I think I got the nicest one and I could use it as part of my self-damage [not self-abuse] regime but I won't. I have a disposable lighter. and people talked about getting into norway. the hard way. and only getting a lousy t-shirt. and rob did a mean impression of fred durst. it was mean. and he did mean it. and there WAS a dog vs. squirrel incident. unevenly matched. and the dog's owner who had been looking for a cigarette earlier lifted it and laid it to rest. or something. in the undergrowth. more people arrived and it was a little chilly. breezy. so. we went up to rose street and found a pub. we sat outside and had some drinks and more chats. me. beside thelad96. outside thepub85. good company. some good jokes here and there. and there. cigarettes. some disagreements about an opposing facade. the one thing, perhaps, I'm missing. some accepted/conceded points. drinks. some talk of arms. arms. hm. somewhere. yeah. and we went inside and played the computer thing gambling machine hangman one. and won some money. and lost some. and ken was impressed with my knowledge. maybe cuz I knew steve bould won the championship with arsenal. maybe drinks. I had some very useful [a truth: useful] conversations. and didn't see an umbrella at one point. I guessed 'jaws 2' through a window and was correct. I think. some people kissed. I heard. the night finished [for me] with some stumbles [oh, I stumbled too] and some collapses [not that I recall] and some encouragement [from me?] [others did it better]. my judgement, only marginally impaired, told me it would be the Right Decision to go home. rather than elsewhere. for my own safety and for that of others. I decided this. but told no-one. and was soon alone. and then not. andrew. striding through some sliding doors. they were open. it could be said. he said 'the glasgow train!'. and there they were. I seized my charge and frog-marched him from the carriage. my hand was shaken and I was wished well. my charge was a shaken too and wished he was at home. boarding the correct train. after ascending and descending staircases. we slept. both. at once. and for too long. awoken by the delayed reaction of my insensitive senses at, of all places, fauldhouse. we were out. the lady who would check our tickets seemed genuinely upset that she couldn't have roused us before our desired destination was gone. a telephone call with reversed charged was placed and received and we were collected by my brother. at home we smoked and pretended to watch 'dark city'. elsewhere... [there will be stories. I hope. I have only had hints of goings on.]. oh. the brackets. hints given at calumn's house the following morning. hints don't convey a great deal. well. enough. I did get an idea though. I HAD FUN ON SATURDAY. I HOPE EVERYONE ELSE DID TOO. - yes. in glasgow the following day for the pernice brothers at king tut's. and there were landmarks or sites of interest highlighted by one or two for the benefit of one. or two. and wandering around glasgow. a couple of bars. and then the show. supporting were remedy. they contradicted themselves completely by having bill bailey on bass. perhaps it wasn't bill bailey. like. in real life. just a guy that looked very like him. but it was no kind of remedy. not for me. someone said they thought they seemed to want to be R.E.M.. it seemed to me like they wanted to be hobotalk. but I doubt it. that they'd. want it. things being the way they seem. ed. someone else supported. I forget. I don't have anything against middle-aged ladies. [some of my best friends are middle aged ladies]. nor do I have anything against denim jackets. or people who frequently glance to their right. or left. [I do this often]. I have nothing against big, stupid hair. [no: mine is neither]. I have nothing against people who stand directly in front of me at gigs. last night a middle-aged lady with a denim jacket and big, stupid hair who frequently glanced to her right and her left stood directly in front of me at a gig. I was annoyed. really. and I didn't want to be. to add insult to injury. the man she was with was bald and chewed incessantly and pretended to know the words to songs. needless to say I have nothing against baldness, incessant chewing or pretending to know words to songs. I enjoyed the gig all the same. despite. and even removed my hands from my pockets or from a folded arrangement to clap at appropriate intervals. oh. and to smoke. I amazed myself by not trying to tip ash into the middle-aged et cetera lady's open handbag. he [joe [john] pernice] definitely has something of elvis costello about him. maybe his voice. or face. or mannerisms. I wrote an essay on mannerism. it didn't make a lot of sense but it wouldn't be that that let me down. yes: I consider joe [john] pernice to be an attraction. a walk to the thirteenth note club. a conference. a taxi ride. a texaco. a bottle of irn-bru. a tube of pringles. a half empty flat. a dragged mattress. a conversation. a sleep. a clearance. a fruitless visit to an institution. a drive home. a lunch of melted cheese on toasted bread. a lift to the railway station. a farewell. a train. I ENJOYED MYSELF OVER THE WEEKEND. I HOPE EVERYONE ELSE DID TOO. I DON'T HAVE A PROBLEM WITH PEOPLE ENJOYING ME. I hope everyone else enjoyed themselves. too. that's almost it. apart from the bits I missed. I think I might have included some that wouldn't have been missed. if I hadn't. but. but, richard. ____________________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? 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