Sinister: hey, dishy: I got your towel right here!

[figure2 at xxx.net]

If your eyeballs be the surfaces of a cortex;
My nostrils exhausting my lymphatic system whilst
Also breathing in:
If these ears have as much inside as they are prone to without;
If I swallow and learn;
If I project and reap the distortions of our reflections:
Am I closer? 

Idles and 'Caitlin' have posted about the recent gig and therefore I don't have to. Was the gig good? A reviewer for Edinburgh's *Evening News* thought so, although Ms. Mullaney seemed perhaps even more impressed by the fact that the merchandising included a tea-towel. Does anyone have one of these? Do they absorb sufficiently, but not too much?
I thought the Usher Hall was a bit big. I took some photos of list people and various abstract shots of spotlit balconies and folks onstage to pass the time, and successfully refrained from singing along to the refrains.
I'm really glad I pushed myself to the 1pm meet-up at the Scott Monument though, because I very nearly didn't. Such interesting and huggeable people shouldn't be missed.
Waiting for the last train home, I sat in a vaguely lotus position at the edge of the platform and wrote in my notebook as legs milled around. The writing is legible but the content is not worth repeating. Anyone who's had the misfortune of being party to one of my late-night monologues will know what I mean.
So. Up again at the craaak of dawn. Radio. World Service. According to Ms. Spink of Penn State University, people are now less keen to type 'sex' into their search engines than they did 12 years ago. This is based upon data compiled from the 'Excite' search engine. Lightweights. I use Google, and Ms. Spinks's prying eyes can stay away. Anyway, she mentioned that most people looking up sexual content couldn't spell, which probably means one of two things: a) they were feeling too horny to be bothered or b) they were of the not inconsiderable body of people on this planet for whom English is not a native language. More curiously though, frequently typed queries were of the ambitious sort, artificial-intelligence wise. Examples: ' should I marry my girlfriend' and 'should I have an abortion'. My bet is both were typed in by an IT consultant with a twisted curiosity.
*Rule, Britannia!...What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor!* follows in some age-old melody that makes you want to stand up and salute as the time passes 05:30am and the frequency swaps the World for the Home service 4. 'Rain later; good becoming moderate. Shannon...' I slurp some super noodles and wish myself down onto the train and back to sleep, lulled by Benjamin Schmidt playing Bach's Partitias for Solo Violin.
Morning in the office working on empty, a bacon roll from the staff canteen and a neckful of *Pro-Plus* caffeine tablets gave way to an afternoon, not of hangover but that melancholy you get when all the fun is in the past. I surreptitiously slip a blank floppy into the computer and open Word in a minimum-sized window whilst fiddling with a house plan I'm adapting (fairly unsuccessfully) for 'varying needs' i.e. houses that can accommodate people once they get old or become disabled in some way or another. Problem is the rooms are just too minimally-dimensioned to begin with so the extra space required simply doesn't fit if you apply the appropriate standards. In any case, I'm feeling bored and lonely and so I try to write this there but I can't. If you think this is bad you certainly wouln't want to read the sheer dreariness of what I was struggling with there. I eventually gave up because it was so crap it was painful: you know... lame witticisms and flights of fantasy that !
wouldn't be the envy of a lackadaisical positivist.Working life gets one down, but not down far enough to make it interesting. I prefer my job when I'm not trying to think or imagine. Then, I quite like it.
OK. No more to say, except: THANK YOU to
John and Peri (is that how you spell it?) for great conversation
Idles and Sweetie for being your wonderful selves
Will... ditto
Lucy for getting Richard John Gillanders a ticket and Richard John Gillanders for having the wisdom to check out the Czech Republic (and I got the ticket)
The girl who stole my original ticket (I hope you made use of it)
Breams, who came all the way from London to see me rather than Idles (but of course;-)
Andy with 'phone and plan

I'm just singling out people I talked with (at?) for more than a few milliseconds.
I spied Lorna from a distance, mingling with the Dundee posse.
Before I start sounding like I'm 'phoning into some pathetic radio show '*and everyone else that knows me*' I shall stop.

There. Wasn't hard. Engine's ticking over a bit, triggering the fan, whirring docile and in electronic overtime.

Gordon x
 


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