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Back on the Wire

Roight. I've got a keyboard and high-speed internet in front of me. This is good.

The flat move went bloody amazingly, as detaled. I must admit, the new location is wonderful for hearing the fireworks from the Tattoo, and indeed the Tattoo itself. Speaking of which...

Parenthetical Aside #1: For various reasons, one of the pipe and drum bands and some of the dancers were at $ORK this lunchtime. Despite my aversion to bagpipes up close, the distance added something to the sound (as did the dancers). However, I couldn't help noticing little details — the showmanship, mostly. Dancers and pipers regularly turned their heads to each other, like they were unsure of who was leading, and even when they weren't, their eyes were all over the damn place. Being part of, and organising, the Night Watch for Beltane/Samhuinn has given me an eye for this sort of thing. You fucking focus, use your peripheral vision, and you flock. You don't stand there like a bunch of disorganised ninnies. And so I felt proud, because I'd helped one of the Beltane groups be better than a group that's part of the Tattoo.

Since moving in, I've been mostly unpacking books and eating a stupid amount of food from scrubway. Still no network connection at home (looking like late August/early September), so until then I've got an hour at lunchtime for LiveJournal, and the rest of the time I'm running my online life off my smartphone. Which isn't too bad. Not being able to research things is a bastard, especially as I'm in the middle of a pitch for something that I will say no more about now[0]. I know I could take my lapdog to theauldhoose, but I'd never get any work done in the pub. Mostly because I'd be talking to people or consuming beer.

Of course, given the area I'm in, there's the Festival tourists by the bucketload...

Parenthetical Aside #2: For the love of the contents of @DEITY, will these deranged fucknuts not learn that Embra Does Not Like Cars? Driving in the city is fucking stupid. It gets in the way of things like busses — enough people use public transport that it has it's own lanes. Fucking Tourists know none of this, leading to massive traffic jams coming in to the city as I went to work this morning. Worse are the Tattoo crowds. What possible cranial malfunction results in these people — collections of complex carbon molecules who have developed highly-tuned information-processing units who are allowed to vote! — think that suddenly standing stock still and taking up all the fucking room on George the Fourth Bridge is a good idea. And then get arsey at me because (Shock! Horror!) I'm not a mind-reader, and thus have not anticipated their sudden halt; like any other person in such a situation[1], I instead take it as them wanting to book an appointment with the Grim Reaper's receptionist courtesy of me and my size elevens. Worse, none of these cretins will let me through to my fucking home without me using my hands to split the crowds of Tattoo spectators. I daresay they think I'm going to the Tattoo with a loaf of Farmhouse White, two litres of Irn Bru, and a small tub or Lurpak.

Anyway. Also missing from LJ has been an assessment of the Influencing Course of Doom. Amazingly, it wasn't so bad. I don't know if I've been primed by one too many RPG ideas or if I'm just that kind of geek, but the forms, techniques, styles, and so on all looked a lot like a martial art. Practice situations were katas, and Power Levers even work well in context as weapons. In other words, I had a two day course in Meeting Kung-Fu, with full lunch and an early finish both days. Surprisingly very useful, even in my official role.

Ranting about tourists aside, I did go see something last night. Along with gominokouhai and stormsearch, we went to see Toby Hadoke do Moths Ate My Doctor Who Scarf (review by Pajh here). It was bloody brilliant, and just the thing I needed to take me out of myself after the move. Of course, in the caves bar afterwards there was a slight confusion. Pajh and I had both ordered the same thing, from two different bar staff. Cue the following:

A: Who are you making that for?
B: The man at the bar.
A: Which one?
B: The one with long hair.
A: Which one?
B: The one with an English accent.
A: Which one?
B: The one wearing black.
A: Which one?
B: The one with a beard.
A: Which one?

It is to laugh.

We're also away to see Dylan Moran on Wednesday, but I've nothing yet booked beyond that. Other things may come up, but who knows? Not I, not yet. After all, I've got a pitch to write ASAP.

[0]: There should be a commonly-used acronym for that...
[1]: This may be a slight exaggeration.

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