Category Archives: Dreams
For the Facebook-equipped, here’s a link to the Dinner Party Project manifesto.
This all started the night before G’s Picnic at Prudence, when – in a sudden, entirely-non-drug-induced moment of feeling like I was peaking on fucking awesome drugs – I was compelled to inform my friends Vicwie & Kav that they would, at some point in the near future, be coming to dinner at my house.
Four other superstars from my work (including the legendary Bourkie) were subsequently invited. And Toots, obvs.
It occurred. It went off.
The rest is currently in the process of going down in relational aesthetics history.
(In accordance with her wishes, all of V*cw*e’s audio parts have been edited out; the excisions are marked with bleeps.)
It’ll come good.
I have been waiting for this device since my teens. And now I have it. I’m posting from it now, natch.
It’s not without its imperfections (shit camera; no Bluetooth; and, most heinously, the basic text editing function has no cut and paste, WTF; etc) but it seems churlish to complain about them.
I’m still adapting to it, but it’s already changing my life significantly for the more flexible and generally better.
(Going to Canberra next weekend & really, seriously need to be emailable at any time – with full access to your archives, FTP and the web – throughout the entire period? Hey, leave your cumbersome, valuable computer at home! Wander wither you will! Life is good.)
It’s almost everything it should be, and it makes me incredibly happy.
The arrival of Spring.
So long, the so-called Real World. It was nice knowing you. In some aspects.
ION: O. M. F. G. Why was I not told about this?! (That’s what I get for not reading the news, I guess.)
(ION: \m/ (>.<) \m/)
TIA. (No, not that TIA.) (Necessarily.)
(This post is dedicated to Mr R. Henley, who doesn’t approve of this kind of thing. Appaz.)
It is going to go OFF.
Here is a picture that this chick posted on my wall, which I like very much:
As you can see, it depicts a longhaired cat sitting atop a moog or some such against a background of stars and bares the motto: “Astro Cat will play for you the Symphony of Space.”
Like William Carlos Williams’ red wheelbarrow, it is what it is.
No more, and no less.