The trains didn't fuck me over, which was always a bonus. I didn't actually manage to get much sleep last night, though. Bed at just gone 5, and the guys working next door started building walls and other stupidly noisy shit at eight. Every time I was mostly sleeping they started smashing bricks and woke me up again. Bastards.
Pulled myself out of bed at eleven, wolfed down a breakfast that had way too much starch for anything eaten a few minutes after getting out of bed. Even so, I needed it given the day ahead. Slung the rest of my stuff in a bag[1] and got the fuck to the station. Of course, the roads were jam-packed and I had to run from the car to catch the train. I hate not having the chance to say goodbye.
Arrived here, Paul was at work but Gary and Jehanne made me feel at home. I got caught up on Black Books, FLCL, Hellsing, and Zim. Got to love Geek Media. Other than that, general stuff is going on, I be safe and all of that shite, though on occasion wishing I had my IMs. That will come soon enough. In other news, the new SSFST will get posted just as soon as
everinward gets around to putting out the collected edition so I have a copy again (damn locally saved Sent folders, IMAP exists for a reason and I needs beat my mailer over the head to realise that). I'm a lot happier with this one than the last, not because it's a tighter piece of writing or any of that shite, but because I got down the vision I had for the title. The other one I had a vision I couldn't articulate in the story, so I cobbled something together about ghosts and shit. This one I knew right away was going to be one part Invisibles, one part 70's spy films, one part apocalyptica, and one part my dreadful need to have a character (nomatter how incidental) who was the Antipope[2]. I got the vision in my mind and it was something I could articulate. So we shall see what the response is.
That's about all for now. Stay safe.
[1]: Laptop in satchel, toothbrush and shaving gear in my wash kit, and a pack of antacids. Travelling always puts me on edgte, so I take those along even if I don't need them. Talisman-type of thing, I guess.
[2]: Damn you, Robert Rankin!!
Pulled myself out of bed at eleven, wolfed down a breakfast that had way too much starch for anything eaten a few minutes after getting out of bed. Even so, I needed it given the day ahead. Slung the rest of my stuff in a bag[1] and got the fuck to the station. Of course, the roads were jam-packed and I had to run from the car to catch the train. I hate not having the chance to say goodbye.
Arrived here, Paul was at work but Gary and Jehanne made me feel at home. I got caught up on Black Books, FLCL, Hellsing, and Zim. Got to love Geek Media. Other than that, general stuff is going on, I be safe and all of that shite, though on occasion wishing I had my IMs. That will come soon enough. In other news, the new SSFST will get posted just as soon as
everinward gets around to putting out the collected edition so I have a copy again (damn locally saved Sent folders, IMAP exists for a reason and I needs beat my mailer over the head to realise that). I'm a lot happier with this one than the last, not because it's a tighter piece of writing or any of that shite, but because I got down the vision I had for the title. The other one I had a vision I couldn't articulate in the story, so I cobbled something together about ghosts and shit. This one I knew right away was going to be one part Invisibles, one part 70's spy films, one part apocalyptica, and one part my dreadful need to have a character (nomatter how incidental) who was the Antipope[2]. I got the vision in my mind and it was something I could articulate. So we shall see what the response is.That's about all for now. Stay safe.
[1]: Laptop in satchel, toothbrush and shaving gear in my wash kit, and a pack of antacids. Travelling always puts me on edgte, so I take those along even if I don't need them. Talisman-type of thing, I guess.
[2]: Damn you, Robert Rankin!!
- Current Mood:
cold - Current Music:Paul, giggling while reading Switchblade Honey.
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