July 2001

Back from Rarotonga this morning at some ungodly hour. The weather was a big disappointment as it wasn't really all that much warmer than here and it rained just about all the time. Still, it was a lovely break. The snorkelling was not nearly as good as I was expecting either. The lagoon is very shallow just about everywhere, with the deepest spot being only about 8 feet deep (at high tide). At least, that was the deepest bit I found. Quite a bit of coral and a variety of fish but not the abundance I have seen elsewhere. I'm nowhere near as fanatical as Mary, but I do love to snorkel. (I'd love to dive properly too, but that's just one of the things I haven't got around to doing). I've been in the Caribbean and lots of places in the South Pacific. Fiji is the best I've seen so far. If you go to the right place (in the west of Fiji) you can swim out a few hundred metres to large walls of coral where the water suddenly plunges to 50-100 feet deep. Not the edge of the main reef of course, but on the way there. There, you can dive down the wall of coral 10.. 20... feet or more, and chase after the schools of fish. (How do I measure the 20 feet or so? Well, I reckon that's about twice I have to equalise pressure in my ears. Once every 8 feet or so, as it gets painful. Not very precise I suppose, but what the hell.) You see manta rays, reef sharks, pipe fish, all kinds of small reef fish, moray eels, schools of *big* fish. Wonderful stuff.

Nothing like that on the main island of Rarotonga. I bet if you dived the reef passages, or some of the outer islands, you'd see some wonderful things, but that's something I'll have to do some other time. Ah well.

Big, big surf on the outer reef. I haven't seen surf that big since I was last in Hawaii. Can't surf it of course because the coral would tear you up. As it is I'm still limping on both feet after my feet had a few fights with coral. Fucking sharp stuff, and hurts like hell when you get cut up. Gets infected too unless you're careful. Of course, I can't surf even small waves because I can't surf at all. Could never get the hang of balancing on that damn board. But body surfing is a blast. I once went in big surf in Hawaii and got my swim suit stripped right off me. Very very embarassing. What do I mean by big surf for me? Well, Hawaii is the biggest I've ever swum in. Those waves were probably 8 feet to the crest; not big by Hawaii standards, but big for me. I was brung up in the south where the surf gets big but the water is too damn cold to use it much. And anyway, in the south the waves only get to 8 feet during a southerly storm, and NOBODY swims in that. Or not voluntarily anyway.

Anyway, as I was saying, the surf on the outer reef got to 15 feet easily, trough to crest. Easily. Maybe even more. Impressive to watch them curling in, regular as you please.

More about Rarotonga? Well, only one road around the island. 40 kms or so right around. No traffic lights anywhere. Each house had its own graveyard for the family. Now *that* really says something about being part of the land. Imagine having 10 generations of your forbears all buried in your back yard. You wouldn't really want to sell up and move on, would you? Pawpaws and bananas were lovely. Fresh bananas off a tree are completely different from those bought in a store. A different fruit entirely. No pineapples or mangos. Must have been out of season? Or maybe they just don't grow there? Dunno. Tourists everywhere. Taro everywhere. And rain. Almost no advertising visible on or in shops. Looked strange at first, not like real shops at all.

And now it's back to work. Start teaching again soon. Ugh. Big first year class. But at least I'll get to fail most of them. That's always a blast. And more painting arrangements on the bloody boat. I had no idea it was so damn complicated. Tins of this, and tins of that, and special undercoat for the keel and the topsides and the deck and the antifoul, and special topcoats for all those things. Bloody hell. If I could afford it I'd pay someone to do it for me. That's the trouble with living in NZ. You earn nothing at all. Way less than minimum wage by US standards. But you know, if we still lived in the US I'd be earning four times as much, but still wouldn't be able to afford a decent boat. And my arse would freeze solid every single winter. No thank you. That choice is an *easy* one. Lets just hope Monique continues to agree. That's why we had to leave last time, because Monique just got fed up with NZ. Ah well. Keep your fingers crossed. To be honest, I know she misses the big wage at times, but not so much this time as last. I'm very hopeful.

And still no rudder. Damn boatbuilder. Lazy bastard.

July 7, 2001

The Knight is spending much time on Fire Island of late. Gets through the McBolie caverns much more easily now, without continual reference to a map. But it seems that Lundar has removed his map of the island, which is a real pain. It's such an excellent reference. And the PBI doesn't have one there either! Is this some big secret that has to be kept by more juvenile wankers? Let's hope not. Actually, it's probably not because EntilZha gave me a link to Lundar's map which does still exist somewhere. If I could remember that link I'd be happy...... Unless, of course, she was breaking some opsec bullshit to do this. Could be.

Sleipy still hasn't found the drake lair, although that's mostly because he can't deal with the fire walkers. He'll need to rope in a healer and a decent fighter to help him. But then I'll have to hunt in a group, which I don't like so much. Ah well, nothing's perfect. I think I'll work on my own map of the interior area and hand it out to all and sundry. That's if I can be bothered. Actually, I really like hunting on Fire Island. Not crowded, with some lovely spots, and confusing to navigate. Lots of mysterious things. Like that weird cave in the marsh, with that room you can't get into. And those Voolcons. And that huge cave complex. Strange, strange.

Does my heart good to hear Michael whining on the newsgroup. His one goal in the game was to get as strong as he could as fast as he could. And now he's finding (like the rest of us) that life isn't quite so simple. In fact, the game is specifically designed to be as irritating as possible to players like him. So he whines and bitches and moans, and I giggle quietly to myself in the background. He just doesn't get it. Why doesn't he leave us alone and go and play UO or something. I forget who it was on the NG, maybe HGM, maybe Merlisk, who said that those who complain about not having millions of items and precise rank tracking etc etc, are really just wanting to play a different game. Exactly. Shut up, go away, and leave the rest of us in peace.

That's not to say that I haven't been irritated by the game numerous times. I have. It has major faults, particularly for people who play it the way I do. But them's the breaks.

Forey has joined the Red Quill, huzzah huzzah. Now he'll find out just how pathetic we really are. Damn. Or maybe he already knows and just wants to laugh at us from the inside rather than the outside. Never got to ask him if he caught the pox, 'cause he's always too busy buttering up Callia so that he gets to be a full mystic or something like that. And poor Nyssa. Did she leave the game from OOC annoyance or is it merely more excellent RP? Dunno. She's very good. Nyssa has developed tremendously over the years, from a naive innocent to a total paranoid loon. Very very convincing character development and ruthlessly done.

Do not try to navigate surf in a little inflatable boat, with one oar. I was confident I could do it. I had to get out to the yacht to check it was still stuck together, so into the surf I go, single oar in hand, head held high, initially completely dry and sublimely confident.

I soon found out that, when the surf is big enough it actually breaks on top of the inflatable. Fills it up with water, making it hard to maneuver And then it spins it around broadside to the waves, and then it tips it up, and then you fall out and have to swim. With all your clothes on. Raincoat and all because it was raining too. In cold water. With the entire population of Torbay watching. Well, not all of them, but some I'm sure. Laughing too, probably. Fuck I said. And then FUCK again. (And then I thought of saying FLIPPING GOSH DARN IT TO HECK but refrained, through modesty and circumspection.)

Still, I eventually made it past the surf, bailed the dinghy, got to the yacht, checked the lines, and paddled back to the beach. Then the waves tipped me out again. What the fuck, I didn't care. I was already pretty wet by then. And cold. And miserable. And not a happy chap at all. Home again home again jiggety jig go I, dripping all the way.

And that's what I did after the RQ meeting on Sunday morning. In other words, after I'd taken some others (including the wondrous Baba) to Fire Island, fallen to a little ground flame thingy, departed, returned, got lost again, not found the Drake's Lair, and finally returned to town, completely unsuccessful and frustrated. Oh, and then Sleipy "helped" Vagile kill some tree giants and baltoises. Of course, he can't hit the fucking things, can he? He stands and fans them.

11th July

My kids are doing horseback riding at the minute. Every day, 'cause it's the school holidays. Anyway, I went to pick them up yesterday. There is a line of young kids all sitting on a log, watching a horse jumping or something. Paul sees me.
"Dad, Dad, Dad", he shouts at the top of his voice. "My horse farted!"
"Golly gee" say I quietly, hoping to avoid further attention.
"Yeah, Dad", Paul shouts even louder, "He farted twice. We were going down the hill and he started with one really big long fart and then he did a smaller fart just after that."
"Fascinating", say I.
"But he didn't do poose today Dad. He did a great big poose yesterday, Dad, but none today, but he did a huge pee today"
"Thank you for sharing that with the whole group, Paul. Time to go."

Who'd have kids? They're not with me. Are they your children Madam?

The Slyphonics are pleased to announce the publication of their debut visionalbum "Chain Mail Bikini", which may be found at http://www.reed.edu/~feigec/slyphonics/

In a concert to promote their visionalbum the Slyphonics played to a packed house of adoring fans, raising the noise and energy to a level previously unheard of in the staid Bards' Field. In her pre-concert show Vagile wound the crowd up to an intense fever of lizard-induced excitement, leading to rioteous scenes where the crowd tried to storm the stage to touch the band when they finally appeared.

Despite a few minor technical glitches (ably corrected by Achates who managed the sound system) the Slyphonics' presentation was a flawless blend of blues, folk, and funk, bringing the audience to their feet time and time again, and setting toes tapping throughout all of Puddleby.

The lead singer Slyph surpassed herself in sartorial elegance, appearing (for the first time in Puddleby history) in an actual chain mail bikini, leaving little, if anything, to the imagination of her many adoring fans. Her backing band, looking very stylish in black and gold, set female hearts racing as they set new standards for Puddleby elegance and sex appeal.

It was the show to beat all shows (until, that is, the next Slyphonics show). If you missed it, you missed a truly world-changing event. Don't miss the next one, or you will regret it for the rest of your life. Music like this does not happen often, and when it does it leaves us all with a memory to be cherished in our hearts forever.

Thank you Slyphonics. Puddleby loves you all.

Some selected Fan comments:

"I loved the lyrics especially, but the Knight was very very handsome too". (Lady Babajaga Vanimalda).

"Stupendous. Amazing. Enthralling. The band members were so handsome, and I loved the song lyrics". (Althea)

"The best musical event that Puddleby has ever experienced. A true demonstration of how wonderful the Bards' Guild is and why we should all support Bardship". (Chum)

"Blowing Achates to get back-stage was the best thing I ever did. I even got to touch Forey!". (Shamhat).

"Oooooooooooooooooooo". (Healery)

"Er..... yeah. Right. Um...... yeah. Fucking poofters." (Arocet)

"I am a superhealer and do not attend such plebian displays. But I was told it was somewhat enjoyable for those who did so lower themselves." (Klur)

"Slepnor is such a shit. But Slyph is OK" (Baffette)

"Absolutely fantastic! Incredible music and I loved the lyrics especially. That is one sexy band. No, wait, don't publish that. Er..... Bugger, too late." (Blitz)

"This was the best musical show I've ever seen in my entire life. Sleipnir has so many talents it's just amazing. And Coriakin is so Thoomy. Forey's a bit fat for my taste but he would probably be OK with turnips. As for Slyph, well, well, well, what can I say. Wow! What a voice! I'm green with envy." (Prue)

"Vagile offers free lizards to anyone who buys the visionalbum at the advance discount price of 200 coins" (Vagile).

"Slyphonics? Who are they?" (Joe)

12 July

I have just had the misfortune to watch one of the movies made at the latest RQ gathering. Of that most foolish piece of whip-bait, the naughtie Alex. Ahem. There he was, doing something disgusting with a bottle of Coke. So far, so good. You know.... disgusting, but expected. And then what do I hear? Surely I'm mistaken? Rewind. Listen again. No! Can't be. Rewind. Listen yet again, very carefully. I think so. Appalling but true. How could he be so rude?

Yes, you guessed it, these were his exact words "This is for you, James. Thinking of you". Well, I never! I'm shocked. Speechless. Well, almost anyway. Tove is sensible and never looks at the pictures. Lets hope she avoids the movies too. What would my mother think?

Not sure the Kira one was much better, but at least a little more was left to the imagination. Only a little, mind you. Boy, am I glad I couldn't attend. Especially since she has got into this nasty habit of abusing the Knight.

As for Zeus, well, he's not so bad you know. For a kid. Better than Kira, anyway. But sometimes I just can't resist winding him up a little. Naughty me. But, hey, I've got to get my giggles one way or another. Then I tried to wind up Althea, but SWC must have been tired or something, 'cause she just ignored the Knight. *sigh*. Klur (as usual) was as interesting as a lump of butter. Kick a pig, you'd get a better response. But nobody can say I didn't try. Almost as much fun as PvP.

You know, I really should try to be a little bit more mature shouldn't I?

17th July

And so, back to work after a completely unproductive weekend. Yet another one that is. Kids go back to school too, which doesn't make them oh so happy. Didn't get to clan much over the weekend 'cause I got distracted by work stuff. I found out that *I* couldn't do some of the problems I put in my book. Most embarassing. I'll give those ones to the class and sit back and giggle.

Still grim on the music side of things as I try and pull thing together. Bruce Morley and I have made some plans so let's hope they work. I must call Claire and have a chat to her also. She's an excellent singer, but might be too busy. Or not want to play loud stuff; I suspect she doesn't like it too loud. Harmen turned out to be a total disaster. Ah well, one lives and learns. It can be so damn hard to pull a band together (well, a good band that is. Bad bands are easy). But it is all a little depressing. It's so much easier to step into a working outfit.

Jeremy rang from Christchurch. He's organising a big fiddle competition. Serious prize money. But I didn't agree to go down and compete. I hate competitions like that. X is better than Y is better than Z. What bullshit. Music shouldn't be a competition. After all, what the fuck do the judges know anyway? Are they really competent to judge my playing? Short answer - no fucking way. Didn't like to let Jeremy down though. He's an old old friend. We've been through a whole lot of shit together, in Australia mostly, but here also.

Naamah seems to have done Aeaea in. Perfect excuse for Sleipy to indulge in a fit of foul temper and abuse everybody. It's so nice to be given the opportunity to be rude. All this courteous bullshit sets my teeth on edge. Got in plenty of abuse at Indigo as well as Naamah, and if Shepherd steps out of line he'll get some too. Ooooo... I can hardly wait! Ho Ho Ho. God knows what really happened though. A ritual? Dunno. All planned? Probably. All prescripted? Hell, of course. But my script wasn't rude enough so I inserted a few nasty words. Hope the writers don't fire me.

Forgot to take pictures unfortunately, but Naamah got well sued and Sleipy was in the jury! Huzzah! Went for the biggest possible penalty he could. Started at 10,000 coins but found that wasn't accepted. He was all set to spit blood when he found that 500 was the maximum. Pathetic. What about the hanging option? But he let his temper spill over on to Malkor too. Always fun to let it all hang out. Yeah! Nothing like a bit of foul language to loosen the bowels and thicken the blood. Or something.

Pathfinding is all fucked up. Well, it's probably fixed I guess, but it's fucked for Sleipy. Can't open the difficult places now. Bummer. I suppose I'll have to wait for Wisher and friends to find Trillbane and then tell me all about how to get there. Ahem. Any day now, I'm sure.

My answering machine message at work says something like "I never check this because I'm a lazy bugger, but feel free to waste your time and leave a message anyway. I probably won't call you back so don't hold your breath." Can't remember the exact words.

So I come down the corridor and find the (three) secretaries all in a big fluff.
"James, James, you're in trouble"
"I am?"
"Oh yes. The Principal rang your answer phone and doesn't like the message. He says it's very unprofessional and you have to change it" (The Principal is the equivalent of the local University Vice Chancellor, basically).
"He does, does he", say I.
"Oh yes. We've all rung your machine to listen to your message and you're very naughty to say a message like that, and the Principal is very angry about it"
"Oh dear", say I "What shall I do?"
"Well, you change your message as soon as possible, and we'll contact the Principal's office and apologise on your behalf"
"I have a better idea", say I. "Why don't you contact the Principal's office and tell him, from James Sneyd, to go to hell"
"Are you serious?" they ask.
"Absolutely", say I. "It's none of his fucking business. And you can quote me on that, too. Verbatim"

(Long silence. I smile nicely and walk away. Actually I get along very well with the secretaries. They don't take me too seriously thank goodness.)

I haven't been fired yet. I'm waiting. But I suspect my message never got transmitted in full splendour.

19th July

Nice CL piccies from the DC meeting on Worf's page. Oh.. hell... OK, I'll put a link in. I can just imagine Alex's bitching if I don't. All right, all right. Jeez. HERE. But you can shove yer anchors where the sun don't shine, matey. Lovely to see Michael in full glory. I'm glad it was Alex had to meet him, not me. Life's too short. And Natas looked pretty much as expected. Young, hostile, and trying to be cool. Maybe he's better in person. Although I still haven't worked out whether his hostility is attempted RP or not. Most puzzling. But I was sure that Bavmorda was a male. Perhaps you mislabelled the photographs? I did notice they managed to get a few snaps where Alex didn't have his mouth open. They must have waited patiently, and then acted fast. Hell, who am I to talk? But do I talk more than Alex? Could be. Robin Greyhawk was not quite as I pictured him, but easily reconcilable. He is always so serious! Lighten up, I want to say. More than once. Lighten up, man. Feel the groove. Smoke a little. Commit some adultery. You know, all those good things. But no, I think he would disapprove.

Actually, it was R. Greyhawk who, when invited to join RQ said "Oh no, I'm not interested in acting out scripted story lines". Short pause. "Er... what?" say I. Robin repeats. "Ah", say I, without bothering to explain. But I've always liked his character, even though I poke a little fun here. We in the RQ are content to be misunderstood. Just as most exiles believe the PM to consist of selfish, unpleasant bastards, so do most exiles believe the RQ to consist of snobbish, pathetic, pseudo-role-players. Who's to say the general opinion is wrong? Well, not about the PM for sure. And maybe not even wrong about the RQ either.

Mary now has a comment feature on her blog. Yeah, OK, OK. Here's your damn link. Nice to abuse her directly now, instead of having to do in sort of in the third person so to speak. And Kira has finally figured out that her "sweetie" (sic) is a slimeball. Snake bite? And she believes him? Hah! How many times has THAT excuse been used? I figure that anyone who calls her "sweetie" a "sweetie" deserves all she gets. Ugh. Sugar overload here.

23 July

I see, with horror, that I have been chastised by Perkusi for teasing Kira. Well.... maybe horror is too strong a word. Relax, Perkusi, relax, you may want to think about this:

There are very few people in CL who have ever made me truly angry. In fact, to be precise, there are three. Tove, SWC Althea, and SWC Perkusi.

Very few CL players have the ability to affect my life in any meaningful way. If I interact nicely with them, fine; if not, well, no big deal. It is certainly true that, of those characters who know him, probably a good majority view Sleipy as an annoying character. And it's undeniable that many of the clickers of those characters believe me to be equally annoying in the same fashion as Sleipy. This is a source of amusement to me. I enjoy winding up the bad karmas, I enjoy being the butt of outraged SS flurries if I dare to spout soppy lovey-dovey stuff for Baba. The fact is, I believe, that the majority of players are too young, or too serious, to understand Sleipy for the satire that he really is. This is, of course, not to say that I'm *not* annoying. I am. In many ways. Just in different ways from Sleipy. Or so I like to think.

But, very rarely, something occurs that makes me spitting angry. Makes me want to spit blood. Makes me want to lash out and break things. Makes me want to spout the nastiest, meanest things I can possibly think of, to the whole world; in triplicate. Those times when my face goes red. Tove knows.

But, Perkusi, when you did this to me, barely a word appeared in this journal. I kept my big mouth shut. There is a message to learn from this. If I am truly angry, if I really want to say nasty things, I usually restrain myself. Because I am well aware that a word spoken in real anger can sour a relationship for the rest of your life. Words are very powerful things. So when I kid around with Kira, and it seems like I'm just being mean and nasty to her, think again. If I really thought Kira couldn't take it, and dish it back as good as she gets, I would just keep quiet.

I played last night with an old, old friend of mine, Luke Hurley. Haven't seen him for probably 15 years. But he was doing a stadium gig last night and asked me to come on down and have a blast. So I show up, get all plugged in and set up, only to find that we're late and Luke's on early, and we have to be on stage RIGHT NOW! Shit, no time to tune up. On I go. Violin's always pretty close anyway, 'cause I keep it that way.

Haven't played with Luke (obviously) for 15 years. So, I say, what's up? Just give me a key, I'll take it from there. D minor says Luke and starts. OK, no problem I think and barrel on in. Holy Fuck! What the hell is this? Totally out of whack. I look at Luke's fingers Yup, sure enough, D minor it is. But according to me, he's playing in C sharp minor. Shit, I think. Dumb fucking guitar players, don't even tune their instruments to concert pitch. Of course, Luke always does a solo act, so he'd never notice he wasn't in concert pitch until he starts playing with someone else.

So, there I was. Right up on stage. Orange pants. Painted in bright colours. Stupid shirt. Really, really loud. Looking oh so smooth. Yup, that's me. But with the guitar tuned a semitone off the violin, desperately transposing a semitone down on the fly, not ever having played any of the songs before, and with the crowd of Luke's adoring fans all standing in the aisles watching carefully. And those of you who know, you'll realise that although D minor is easy on a violin, C sharp minor is NOT. Not at all. For a start, the fingers fall all wrong. For the next, how the fuck can you remember the changes in C sharp minor? Quick, quick, what's a 1 6 2 5 in C# minor. No, no, too late, been and gone now. Now it's the relative major and transposing up to the two. Shit, shit, what the hell is that one? Damn, oh bugger. Woops, song over. Smile happily and raise your arms high. Give a flamboyant bow and hope there aren't any real musicians in the audience. I sweated. I concentrated real real hard. And I didn't think of Tove once.

As it happens, it went like a dream. (Nightmarish in spots). There are some musicians you have a rapport with. Instantly. You talk the same language, think the same riffs. Just have similar brains I suppose. And it's like that with Luke and me. Always has been. And it was like I'd never left. Luke plays a very rhythmical, rocky, style. Heavy blues influence. Intricate, powerful, groove. Which suits my own style down to a tee. So, we cranked up the volume and cut loose.

Worth it, too, for the backstage connections. Some big names in NZ music were there. Had a long chat to Tom Sharplin. Knew his stuff, but I'd never met him before. Aging NZ rocker. And I mean *really* aging. Older than me even! So I did the business card handout thing and maybe I'll get some decent jobs coming in.

25 July

I detect (with my expertly trained hyper-sensitive awareness) a slight amount of irritation emanating from Kira's diary. I doubt if anyone else has picked it up, as she manages to hide it so very well, but to someone who knows her as I do there are some indications that she is a little annoyed with me.

Golly. I think I shall avoid her diary for a while, so that I don't have to resist the temptation to make a smart-arse comment.

Damn, I miss Baba. I mean, really miss her. Usually, in fact, I just don't bother to play CL. Not even at night much now. I work instead mostly. Lots of work gets done, which is nice I guess. Even the Slyphonics became irritating after a while. Not because of the other members I hasten to add, all of whom I like greatly, but because it was annoying to spend so much time on stuff that wasn't "real" music, while my RL music was going so badly. Things are improving slowly in that respect, thank goodness. But only one gig this week, which ain't so impressive. *grumble, grumble*. So, instead of working on Slyphonics stuff, I try to spend the time schmoozing RL music people. Making phone calls, doing arrangements, going out to meet players, that kind of thing.

The trouble is that I hate the schmoozing aspect. Really hate it. And I'm terrible at it. Ah well. Better stop whining and get on with it. Got some calls to make.

You know what one of the worst things is about getting older? It's not that you're going to die sooner (maybe), because, after all, you've already done a pile of stuff, and if you weren't getting older you'd be dead which ain't a nice alternative. No. What I find one of the worst things is that you take so long to heal when you injure yourself. And you tend to get injured more easily. I've broken arms, wrists, ankles, all when I was younger, and they healed up no problem. Been knocked off my bicycle many a time by dumb fuck drivers, but still stick together. But, now that I'm older I take for bloody ever to heal. You hurt yourself just once on the damn boat, and it seems you're in trouble for months afterwards. Bloody annoying. I scraped my elbow just before going to catch a plane a few months ago and it took literally weeks to heal up. Or longer. Not to mention that I got blood all over the inside of my favourite jacket and the dry cleaner was going to charge $200 to clean it because it was leather and I can't afford to pay stupid prices like that and so I now have either to wear a disgusting jacket with great big bloodstains on the inside or clean it myself and I'm far too busy to do stuff like clean jackets so I just wear it anyway and my wife thinks I am really really gross and you all probably do too even though you know I don't give a damn about what you lot think about it.

Though, to be honest, my wife hates my leather jacket even though she claims she doesn't. She thinks it is a desperate attempt on my part to retain a pathetic vestige of my long-lost youth by trying to be cool and radical. She's probably right. But it's old, old, old, and tatty, tatty, tatty (I got it in an op-shop years ago. It was old then) and I just like what it says to people. It says that I don't give a fuck about their stupid fashions and I'll wear whatever the hell I want to.

Everybody's clothes make a deliberate statement about them. Even people who claim that they don't care about them and don't think about them, are not being honest. Even trying to project an image of not caring about what you wear is itself projecting a deliberate image. This is an image I'm very comfortable with. And if I want to project it, why the hell shouldn't I? Though in the circles I usually move (outside of work that is) I'm well-dressed, well-groomed, and exceptionally elegant. No, really. You should see the others.

Hell and damnation. I really am in a foul mood today.

27th July

And so another blogger joins our foolish ranks. This stuff is catching. A big welcome to FOREY!!! Huzzah! He doesn't yet swear very much but I'm hoping his behaviour in that regard will improve. He needs to have a wee chat with Perkusi so she can enlighten him on expected blogging behaviour. Don't listen to Shepherd though. He's a bit broad, or something.

Forey's question. Is 10 ranks of Loovma enough to make a chain worthwhile? Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha. Good one, matey, you crack me up. Don't call us, we'll call you. Next please.

Finally the Knight got to open all those nasty Fire Island paths, and Lundar showed him the entrance to the Drake's Lair. No real surprises there I guess. Loaned his shovel to Yor for his LIFE stuff. Yor is definitely cool. Very inclusive and works hard. A real gentleman.

Sailing with Andre this weekend if the weather holds. (And if we can get the tiller back on the boat. That's bound to give me a dunking as I try to lift a heavy tiller from the water to the boat, while balancing in the inflatable. Ouch.)

No gigs. All weekend. The drought continues. Nothing for 6 bloody days. And then to the U.S. for a couple of weeks. Looking forward to seeing the SF and Chicago peoples.

HWC's Diary. Read it at your peril.

July 6, 2001