| Home again, home again ... |
[11 Jul 2009|04:48pm] |
Got home circa 9 p.m. last night, thanks to my hero tutor-chauffeur, who paused long enough to drink a cup of tea and be entertained by the Krumpies hurtling up and down after the red spot of doom.
Brain full. Books and papers and references everywhere. More conference blogging to catch up on later.
So far today, the only meaningful thing I have achieved is a trip to the supermarket, and that was a struggle. There were moments when I felt as though I was moving in slow-motion among all the other people.
Oh, we did put collars and tags on the Krumpies, so we will worry less when they go outside. Not the smart new collars I bought for them by mail order, as these are still a little too big, but something cheap, cheerful and adjustable. The Krumpies look very smart with their collars and little engraved tags, and have reacted well to having collars once they got past the initial frustration of having something round their necks they couldn't quite see to play with.
Other than that ... bleargh. PK is now cooking dinner and I am trying to unpack my bag and rucksack, and find space for the pile of books I've borrowed from my tutor. It's like moving in slow motion.
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[10 Jul 2009|11:54pm] |
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| Problem: Solution |
[09 Jul 2009|11:42pm] |
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Typically, when I meet smart, interesting, creative people around my age, there is a pretty good chance they are either currently in grad school or planning on attending. They tell me I should go to grad school, would be a great grad student, and an even better professor. Based on the data so far, I feel like this would be very good for my social life, and likely, my romantic life as well. Nonetheless, whenever I think about the idea of going back to school, it sounds wrong, and doesn't make sense, as if someone suggested I build a statue of Mega-Man out of cheese in a public square. Sure I could do it, and there might be some benefits to it, but it doesn't seem like a real solution to anything. It seems like there's better things I could do with my time. It doesn't feel like I'm supposed to spend any more time in school. I feel like I'm supposed to write a book, or cut an album, or make my own school or something. Not that I'm ready to do any of those things yet--but that feels like the kind of path I'm on.
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| works hard for a living |
[09 Jul 2009|11:44pm] |
I spent an invigorating hour this afternoon watching the database majestically migrate across nominal space from one server to another, doubtless in the same, humming, overcooled room. Not that I'd know, it was on the other end of the phone, where a man called Stephen reacted to my having a series of quick tests ready to run while he listened in with faintly bewildered surprise. Maybe people just usually don't bother checking, and spend the rest of the month ringing back and shouting.
It safely dodged the crocodiles, so I went back to the vast read/research list which hopefully will bring me up to stage on IAG and checking the information schedule for the next few months. Which was when I found out that National Samaritans Day is on my birthday. I mean, I don't begrudge them and the whole 24/7 thing makes it an obvious choice, and yes, OK, but nevertheless it was a real Saturday's child moment.
Got home to discover that we'd achieved wall and Handy Andy the Indie Builder came round with some beer to regale us with tales of backstage boosh and relieve us of some of our savings. Upstairs, last night's sealant fit had made the shower uglier but less inclined to wash water down the wall. Me last night: I thought the black stuff between the tiles was dirt, not gaps! More learning from last night; check how to get silicon sealant off your hand before your hands are covered with the stuff.
I harvested my first aubergine. Tim used it to bulk out a kedgeree. It was delicious.
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| build a little book-shop in my heart |
[08 Jul 2009|08:23am] |
Woke up this morning from a strange dream of a being a hang-around in a central Oxford bookshop, down one of those little alleys, a huge sprawling place full of tiny rooms crammed with shelves, leather armchairs and sofas and other and places for a quick lie-down. I was spelling on the till, realising that I was transitioning from hang-around to staff, in the way regulars sometimes do. Someone who often got their parcels delivered to the shop was really pushing it this time, with two huge parcels which made a freaky sound as they hit the ground. I laughed and launched myself backwards onto one; only one thing makes a sound like that! A mattress! I turned my head sideways and saw that the electro-bugs were already invading the mattress through a tear in the brown paper, they looked like little grasshoppers but neon green and yellow. They were all over the bookshop, another problem to add to the pile of problems that stacked up around us, that lurked behind the shelves, that we breathed in with the dust that danced in the yellow bars of afternoon sunshine slanting through narrow windows.
I've had a bad couple of days with my all my attention playing pass the parcel between work, house, wedding. No time for comics, so instead I get paranoid, anxious and start to confabulate in an uncontrolled and unhelpful way. At which point I get worse at doing the work, house, wedding round, and the problem tightens. Have to spike that circuit if I can, somehow. But writing the comics is no good if I can't find the time to finish them, it just adds to the narrative load.
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| heavy going |
[06 Jul 2009|12:14am] |
Thursday: Big Yellow Storage no longer does late nights. The tip does. I need a compost bin. To measure the space I have and the space the base of a compost bin would take and then to come up with an innovative solution, possibly involving that pile of dirt from where our retaining wall should be.
Friday: Lots of cleaning. Water meter guy brings us our new steampunk dial. Damp man, full of portents and dark advice. Scrabbling through the various accounts trying to figure out what's cocked up this time. In an absent moment find myself wondering if our mortgage account is being used to error test the new computer system. We should get some sort of beta testing bonus.
Saturday: A bit hungover from a mini housewarming party, and the little surprise Teasel left for us as a thank-you for introducing him to many exciting people. Out to storage. My stuff's been in storage for too long, too hot, too humid. Go punting in the afternoon, astonished by how slow I am. Once I could keep up, practically race. Not now, and I'll feel this on monday. All the same I manage to bring us alongside a friend's punt smoothly enough that drinks can be served from one to the other. They then went careening into nettles but oh well.
Sunday: How many runs to storage can we make? Ate my first tomatoes today; they were disappointing, watery. Tradescantia "osprey" closes when the sun becomes too bright and high, preferring the morning and evening. Should plant them out. Must have time soon. Fiddle with fairy lights. Combine book collections. We now have a shelf section for poetry and Gene Wolfe under W. Greater love hath no man.
Still not sure where the Man from U.N.C.L.E books are going.
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| public transport hates me |
[02 Jul 2009|02:14pm] |
My journey to the "Pride Illustrated" talk yesterday descended, scrap by scrap, into a nightmare scenario reminiscent of the worst of the Film 4 comedies. A series of increasingly plaintive twitters mark the progress of the disaster; the exploding car transporter, the broken air conditioning, the two school parties of children coming back from their Oxford Open Day. I arrived in London after a journey of four and a half hours, all information heat-blasted from my brain save the location of a rather nice cocktail bar near Charing Cross. I made it to the counter, gasped out an order, turned around, and saw an old school friend and the son of a former colleague sharing a private moment -- which I promptly invaded, trailing heat and disaster in my wake. Eventually I felt strong enough to walk round the block to the pub where the Pride Illustrated gang had repaired to, just as everyone was leaving. I met David Shenton in the end, shook his hand and croaked, "how nice to meet you". Smooth, Jeremy, really smooth.
Somehow one last drink turned into a wide-ranging and fascinating debate about art, the nature of queer identity, politics, self expression and the most stylish thing to wear to gay shame. Alas, I then had to haul myself back onto a stuffy bus for the journey home. I'm not very well today. Heat exhaustion, I think.
Oh, and do you remember Gormley's plan for the plinth? In a sense I already partyicipated, back in the voting rounds when I made this:
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me on anthony's plinth
I may not opt for standing on one leg, though.... |
But nevertheless:
Oh dear, that widget's NOT going to embed. People, JUST USE VANILLA HTML. Let me try again.
No, all of the widget's are script heavy. Here's the link so you can make your own application.
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| All the Bs |
[02 Jul 2009|11:17am] |
Stating the really rather obvious ... it's hot out there. Yesterday really was better gardening weather, and woe is me that I did not do so then but instead messed around with other jobs.
However, so far today, I have tidied up about half of the back garden, and engaged in the first round of Krumpies, meet garden; garden, prepare to meet thy doom; insects, try not to sting the Krumpies even though they are chasing you with an enthusiasm and persistence that would not disgrace a bounty hunter.
Minnow retired to the conservatory to watch from a discreet distance, and when the Krumpies were finally hauled indoors after being discovered tarting themselves on the dividing wall, Minnow retired to Smudge's summer pavilion, where she is currently nicely camouflaged with the fennel. Me, I would nicely camouflage with a pair of cooked lobsters.
Garden versus Krumpies was, I think, a draw, with Minnow and myself tied in third place in terms of exhaustion and concern, though possibly not for the precise same reasons.
Today's butterfly is small, brown and moving too damn fast for me to see it properly so far. Today's bread is about to be committed – a loaf of pane di semola that will, I think, go nicely with tonight's projected grilled meat and salads. The marinade for the barbecue has not yet been determined.
Later, when I have got the day more organised, I shall be going online to download a particular essay by Spivak; I'm currently reading an essay which refers to it constantly, so I guess I'd better read that first. it's good to have the chance to do this without feeling rushed for once. I also got official confirmation today that I have done well enough this year to pass on to the second year of my part-time MA. Go me.
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| Life with the Krumpies ... |
[01 Jul 2009|08:55pm] |
Tomorrow is a big day for the Krumpies, if they did but know it. They've been sitting patiently, hopefully, sporadically, by the cat flap for the last couple of days. Tomorrow, as I've a lot of gardening I want to deal with, I am going to let them into the garden, under my supervision.
Tonight, they met the third most important person in their new life, my neighbour who cat sits when we're away. They seemed to like her. She of course adored them. And Minnow explained that actually, this was her third human, and they could get in line, thanks.
And today, I showed my devotion to the Krumps by signing up for an eBay account so I could buy them some more of the mouse toys they like best. I also bought them a feather/bell/ball on a string thing while I was out today, which is now hanging on the newel post at the bottom of the stairs. Today's best thing ever, apparently, though not as good as Minnow's tail. Meanwhile, this house is eating toy balls. There must be a place they vanish to, along with toy mice.
I think the cats have had a good day, as I've been doing all sorts of interesting domestic stuff they've not seen here before, so it's all new to them in these surroundings. The washing machine is a huge hit, better than Minnow TV. Nicodemus is big and strong enough to jump up onto the kitchen counter, from where he stole several broad bean skins, while I was preparing to make risotto. I've no idea where he's stashed them, but feel sure I will find out when I least want or expect to. Also, they've had the whole house to run around in for the last couple of days, which they've enjoyed. They're still fascinated with Min, and she with them, though today has been a day of restaking her claim to her humans. She came and sat on me in bed this morning, and then later sat on my lap downstairs, while the Rosademus crawled as close as they dared to watch in awe and wonder. Min still hisses at them and bats them on the head if she thinks they're being presumptuous (Nicodemus is getting used to this), but there is no sense of murder about to be committed any more, and I think the tension will ease when Min can get out again.
They really are super little cats, beautifully trained to the litter tray, up to speed on this washing business, and a credit to their mummies and to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) hungry_pixel. They are also endlessly entertaining, full of character and we're very happy to have them here.
And tomorrow they have their first visitor, as a_d_medievalist is coming down to see them.
As for me, I've had a good day too. I feel more relaxed than I've done in months and have got lots done, which is good as there is lots more to do.
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| Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside |
[01 Jul 2009|08:44am] |
When I woke this morning, there was mist over the hills behind the town, not so much a sea fret as a middling panic attack, but it has abated as the day has warmed up.
But, as we are by the sea, there is also a breeze, a surprisingly icy one, and I've been busy around the house, opening the top part of sash windows, letting it into the house. My study feels fantastically cool, and so does the bedroom. Other bits of the house are less pleasant as we are still having to corral the Krumpies so I can't fling open the french windows and back door as I normally might, though I may open the tops of the sitting-room windows and the windows in the conservatory when I get home from a spot of retail therapy (cat litter, compost, large flower pots, bamboo canes, nothing exciting but all vital, oh, and some parmesan or pecorino; PK has requested risotto tonight, and on the grounds that he is this week's designated stress bunny, he gets what he needs).
Gradually, gradually, after the insanity of the last week, things are settling again – laundry done, bread to be baked tonight, things slowly being put away, garden being tamed. Tomorrow or Friday I shall go over to campus and pick up the interlibrary loan that has arrived for me, a book about Hispanic-Canadian writers, so I can start doing some more intense work on this group. At some point I need to find out about lessons in basic Spanish, but not yet. My tutor has also offered to lend me some books on native American literature to follow up something else I'm curious about. A busy summer ensues.
But right now, I am on a mission to find furry toy mice for the Krumpies. Nothing else will quite do!
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| Be afraid |
[30 Jun 2009|09:45am] |
Today, the kittens are doing 'exploring Brisingamen's desk'. This is the first opportunity they've had to intensively examine my study since they arrived, as they've had to spend rather a lot of time shut in our bedroom what with one thing and another. 'Minnow TV' is proving a huge hit, not surprisingly, but Rosa, who does logistics, is already eyeing the open sash window with interest (the top is open, not the bottom; I'm not that daft). Nicodemus is a four-footed furry wrecking ball. Several piles of paper have already crashed to their doom, so it is probably as well I was planning to sort out and file things in here. Having said that, I think he and Rosa do the Smudge and Snufkin bait-and-switch routine. We know that one would act as decoy while the other did something inexpressibly naughty, and I think Rosa and Nicodemus may be doing a version of the same thing, or rather, that Rosa, who is scarily intelligent, even in the annals of scarily intelligent Brisingamen kitties, is exploiting young master fluff-for-brains's enthusiasm for getting stuck in to go off quietly about her own nefarious business.
Anyway, if odd posts start appearing on LJ it will be because Rosa has commandeered the laptop while I wasn't looking. I suspect she is quite capable of operating the interwebs already and is merely waiting for an opportunity.
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[29 Jun 2009|07:30pm] |
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Automatically shipped by LoudTwitter
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| Poetry reading tonight |
[29 Jun 2009|08:01am] |
just to remind people that Kimberley Blaeser and Gordon Henry, Jr, Anishinaabe poets, will be reading at 6.45 p.m. at Meeting Room 4, British Library Conference Centre, St Pancras, 96 Euston Road NW1 2DB
£3 /£2 conc.
PK and I will be attending, he to be in the audience, me to help with organisation and to be in the audience. This is a rare opportunity to hear both poets in the UK and it should be a marvellous event. Having met the poets this last week, I can say they are fascinating people. I've been reading some of their poems recently, and I'm looking forward to hearing them read. Do please come and join me if you're able to.
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