So I didn’t get the backlog killed before I left. Not even close. But hey, I’ve madeground! (*eyeroll*)
And now I’m out here, I realise the whole thing probably doesn’t matter as much as I thought it did. There are, I guess, conceivably worse things than confronting the mythical apocalypse with a chaotic media archive and a delinquent blog.
CG Fest was good, although I spent most of it sloughing off accumulated stress and sleep deprivation.
Maybe it’s just the delirium, but I’m quite unreasonably thrilled by the fact that my home for the next week and a half is this hut, whose previous occupant over the weekend was none other than Ella Hooper:
Did I mention that Dan became the new co-resident of Chez Hagakure about a month ago? Well, he did. It’s good 🙂
(The commencement of CH Cohabitative Arrangement VII was celebrated with an official housewarming on Saturday October 27th. But for whatever reason – partly because I was still recovering mentally from this – no notable media was captured of that event. Ergo no specific blogpost.)
This certainly hasn’t occurred due to an absence of stuff to blog about. Indeed the exact opposite.
I feel very torn about whether TF still has legs these days. But it’s been so important to me in the past – and for such a long time – that it’s extremely hard to just give up and declare it dead. And pretty much impossible to abandon it to a slow lingering death of neglect, rather than putting some kind of at least semi-decisive fullstop on it.
Anyway. How am I? Okay. Feeling slightly weary and wartorn between one thing and another, and very ready for winter to be over. But it nearly is. \o/!
I plan to spend the time between now and my birthday on September 14th hibernating regeneratively and getting my house in order – which includes undertaking the epic, long-procrastinated and hopefully cathartic task of updating TF retrospectively with documentation of some of my zany 2012 adventures.
Depending on the extent to which this latter task seems rewarding and worthwhile or more like taking a reluctant zombie for a walk, we’ll see what happens.
This all started when I received a call from Moo first thing in the morning advising that Channel 7 would be doing their evening news broadcast live from Federation Square, and suggesting that we quietly herd the cats for some snap TPPA-awareness-raising action.
Although in the end I personally missed the whole actual thing. Who knew it would turn out to be this epic? Wrong day to be taking a break. Oh well.
In a nutshell: systematically climbed the fuck out of hell. Again. (See previously: 2005; 2007; 2009.)
And it’s good! Can’t complain.
“Friends – you know who you are; you know we’re grateful.” – Blur, 1993. (Seriously. If ever a year was about Who Your Real Friends Are, it was 2011.)
Similarly, those who have fucked me up and fucked me over this year most likely know who they are also, and possibly how I feel about this (hint: angry, bewildered and sad) – with the possible exception of the Rt Hon Lord Mayor of Melbourne Robert Doyle (note contact details), who I strongly suspect does not have any idea who I am.
(I also doubt he reads this blog. But since it just can’t be said often enough I might as well take this opportunity to (re)state, for the record: Robert Doyle, you’re a fucking cunt. You really are.)
The bulk of this year’s SIDTY post I rendered in audio format at the coast a few nights ago. It goes into a bit more detail (although, to be honest, not all that much). Enjoy: