Sometimes I really love the walk home from work.. I pass three sets of newspaper boards and it's rare that I don't see at least one that makes me titter. It is rare that I see such a well matched trio as this little set though!
Monday, 15 September 2008
Wednesday, 20 August 2008
Weird presents...
OK so the lighting is shoddy and I really need to sort how I photograph my random scribbles but...
After we had a few comments from our house guest (my sister) Heather and I were alerted to just how many odd nic-nacs we have round the house. Many are from my mother's yearly foray into insanity for our Christmas stockings which are both a perpetual horror and an endless delight. In a way she is a gift innovator. In a way...
However, especially with a Birthday coming, I thought I'd chart some of the odder presents I've received in the last few years. I do have a correction though... that vibrating miffy is actually a vibrating Studio Ghibli critter. The Miffy does have a loop on her back for hanging up though and sits with the critter. I think both quality as odd...
I do like most of the gifties btw but it's just baffling to work out why or how they were picked for me. I *do* like shoes so in theory the shoe pressies make sense... in practice though a study pair of man size birkinstocks would be far more useful than a ceramic hollow yellow shoe. The former would also probably have a better designed contour than the latter. Worryingly....
The big question is less "why was I given this" than "who the hell makes this and why"?! That particularly applies to the ceramic shoe tealight holder. For all those times when you've really wanted to think about your shoes on fire. er...
After we had a few comments from our house guest (my sister) Heather and I were alerted to just how many odd nic-nacs we have round the house. Many are from my mother's yearly foray into insanity for our Christmas stockings which are both a perpetual horror and an endless delight. In a way she is a gift innovator. In a way...
However, especially with a Birthday coming, I thought I'd chart some of the odder presents I've received in the last few years. I do have a correction though... that vibrating miffy is actually a vibrating Studio Ghibli critter. The Miffy does have a loop on her back for hanging up though and sits with the critter. I think both quality as odd...
I do like most of the gifties btw but it's just baffling to work out why or how they were picked for me. I *do* like shoes so in theory the shoe pressies make sense... in practice though a study pair of man size birkinstocks would be far more useful than a ceramic hollow yellow shoe. The former would also probably have a better designed contour than the latter. Worryingly....
The big question is less "why was I given this" than "who the hell makes this and why"?! That particularly applies to the ceramic shoe tealight holder. For all those times when you've really wanted to think about your shoes on fire. er...
Monday, 18 August 2008
Cake Buffet
This is my little interpretive piccie of the amazing cake array at Mimi and Tom's wedding this weekend in Konstanz, Germany. Not only were there immensely impressive puddings but also a really lovely blessing ceremony, some excellent speeches (I only wish I spoke German as the one getting all the belly laughs was pretty much impossible for me and Heather to fathom), a german ceilidh band and lots of catching up with Sarah & Dan and Janna.
On the way back I had my most surreal airport experience in Zurich airport. A giant shiny shopping centre with mammoth advertising hoardings and, er, the occasional plane, also has a little underground train connecting the gates. And it's an advert for Switzerland replete with barely audible tweetings and mountain wind noises that build as you flash past a psychadelic 20 screen alp-based experimental visual bombardment before hearing the squiffy cowbells and yodelling that only partly prepare you for a loud moo as you pull into your gate... Bonkers....
On the way back I had my most surreal airport experience in Zurich airport. A giant shiny shopping centre with mammoth advertising hoardings and, er, the occasional plane, also has a little underground train connecting the gates. And it's an advert for Switzerland replete with barely audible tweetings and mountain wind noises that build as you flash past a psychadelic 20 screen alp-based experimental visual bombardment before hearing the squiffy cowbells and yodelling that only partly prepare you for a loud moo as you pull into your gate... Bonkers....
Sunday, 3 August 2008
Fringe Phobic
Today I finally saw Anna's play "The Exquisite Corpse" and was really pleased that I really liked it and it prompted lots of discussion about what all of the four of us who saw it thought was going on - the concept is that 15 scenes, not necessarily at all related, are shown in a randomly selected order which changes their meaning, tone and connectivity. Not that I was expecting any less of course - the show's already received a 4 star review from Three Weeks and I think it's likely to do at least that well with other reviewers over the coming days.
Unfortunately, as happens every fringe at least once the combination of theatre and unusual levels of cabin fever (houseguests!) came to a (relatively benign) head in the sort of conversation that leaves me irate that anyone who does not live in Edinburgh thinks that a visit every August equates to a knowledge of what the city is like the rest of the year. I get into this vortex of frustration at least once a year whether with my houseguests or strangers around town who consider a regular visit to the festival to equal residencey.
I do reserve a special anger for the small subset of people who insist on over dramatic greetings in the streets as if the whole city is a little London-on-holiday theme park. If the red bellied fry up eaters on the Costa del Sol are a working class embaressment to Britain I would suggest that the Londoners air kissing and slumming it with baffling superiority in Edinburgh in August should be seen to exhibit just the same sort of tunnel visioned shame for anyone living in the South of London.
Obviously this frenzied sense that everyone owns a piece of my adopted home is one of the more predictable side effects of living in this city with a World famous festival. It can obviously be fabulous but there are lots of negative side effects ranging from virtually unusable buses (depending on the route), raided shelves at Tescos (leading to scenes resembling the bread lines in the old Soviet bloc), dubious tap water (several times in recent years the drinking water has been declared "safe" but closely resembled a sample from a grotty pond) to a perpetual and extreme sense of extreme claustrophobia (even outdoors - the meadows looks like a particularly unruly mass barbeque when the sun comes out). And that's before you even touch the weird appearence of poor quality but expensive food and drinks venues, the booking out of all your favourite (and usually drop in friendly) restaurants, 20 minute queues for bathrooms... And the excreble (and humourless) street artists.
I'm not saying I can't deal with my home's freaky flipside but every year it takes me most of the month to get used to it. At the same time I get, somewhat inconsistently, enraged that each year the festival seems to get less and less national coverage - which seems odd since there is no qualm about covering local music and arts events elsewhere especially when they are in or near London. Scotland rarely gets arts coverage at any time of year so it seems especially sad that the reporting seemingly peeked with the Perrier and stand up glory days of the mid nineties. At least online coverage is now starting to gain in respectibility - a pleasant change since my earliest EdinburghGuide days when internet journalists were only just starting to make a mark on the press offices. Although something about the festival must be appearing on BBC2 on Tuesday night's Culture Show as they were filming (and substantially delaying) last night's patchy but mostly funny and charming Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre show.
The problem really is just that I picked such a lovely and (normally) equisitely middle class and interesting but discreet place to call home. I'm very happy here all damn year so I think it's understandable that I get rather overprotective and hacked off by the fair weather friends that flock for the month of August and a few days at Hogmany. At least I get a super birthday pressie come September 1st... They all fuck off home and leave us to our happy all year round menu of culture, classiness, usable wifi and just the few handfuls of japanese tourists and hen nighters to deal with...
Unfortunately, as happens every fringe at least once the combination of theatre and unusual levels of cabin fever (houseguests!) came to a (relatively benign) head in the sort of conversation that leaves me irate that anyone who does not live in Edinburgh thinks that a visit every August equates to a knowledge of what the city is like the rest of the year. I get into this vortex of frustration at least once a year whether with my houseguests or strangers around town who consider a regular visit to the festival to equal residencey.
I do reserve a special anger for the small subset of people who insist on over dramatic greetings in the streets as if the whole city is a little London-on-holiday theme park. If the red bellied fry up eaters on the Costa del Sol are a working class embaressment to Britain I would suggest that the Londoners air kissing and slumming it with baffling superiority in Edinburgh in August should be seen to exhibit just the same sort of tunnel visioned shame for anyone living in the South of London.
Obviously this frenzied sense that everyone owns a piece of my adopted home is one of the more predictable side effects of living in this city with a World famous festival. It can obviously be fabulous but there are lots of negative side effects ranging from virtually unusable buses (depending on the route), raided shelves at Tescos (leading to scenes resembling the bread lines in the old Soviet bloc), dubious tap water (several times in recent years the drinking water has been declared "safe" but closely resembled a sample from a grotty pond) to a perpetual and extreme sense of extreme claustrophobia (even outdoors - the meadows looks like a particularly unruly mass barbeque when the sun comes out). And that's before you even touch the weird appearence of poor quality but expensive food and drinks venues, the booking out of all your favourite (and usually drop in friendly) restaurants, 20 minute queues for bathrooms... And the excreble (and humourless) street artists.
I'm not saying I can't deal with my home's freaky flipside but every year it takes me most of the month to get used to it. At the same time I get, somewhat inconsistently, enraged that each year the festival seems to get less and less national coverage - which seems odd since there is no qualm about covering local music and arts events elsewhere especially when they are in or near London. Scotland rarely gets arts coverage at any time of year so it seems especially sad that the reporting seemingly peeked with the Perrier and stand up glory days of the mid nineties. At least online coverage is now starting to gain in respectibility - a pleasant change since my earliest EdinburghGuide days when internet journalists were only just starting to make a mark on the press offices. Although something about the festival must be appearing on BBC2 on Tuesday night's Culture Show as they were filming (and substantially delaying) last night's patchy but mostly funny and charming Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre show.
The problem really is just that I picked such a lovely and (normally) equisitely middle class and interesting but discreet place to call home. I'm very happy here all damn year so I think it's understandable that I get rather overprotective and hacked off by the fair weather friends that flock for the month of August and a few days at Hogmany. At least I get a super birthday pressie come September 1st... They all fuck off home and leave us to our happy all year round menu of culture, classiness, usable wifi and just the few handfuls of japanese tourists and hen nighters to deal with...
Monday, 28 July 2008
Why haven't I been blogging?
Lately I keep logging into Blogger, half starting a post and giving up again. Not because I'm having technical troubles (strangely that always seems to drive me on - see the length of my MSc blog for evidence of that). It's not because I've also been doing work blogging on this account (for SUNCAT and UKSG) although that comes into it. I think mostly it's because I've become very blurry about all the lines marking out different areas of my life which means I have no idea what I should be blogging about.
Going back a good 5 years I was blogging about personal stuff with random little brain outpourings that very few people actually read and most of those were people I knew. The first blog I wrote wasn't even on a blogging service but was a sqonky little home HTMLed little pink webpage. And now? Now I'm on Blogger and if that's not the definition of search optimised for blogging I don't know what is. Not only that but when I update my blog it gets about a bit - it publishes to its own feeds, it's feeds into my webpage (also linked to Twitter, Flickr etc) it feeds into my Facebook profile, and by extension people read that I've made updates in their Facebook feeds, their feedreaders and some of them get an email. So I have readers. Not a massive fanbase of course but lots of people I know will know when I make an update and that's some social pressure.
Indeed I'd go further, it's not just that people I know well get updated about these posts since Facebook is super insidious (though generally wonderful) and so those people include all of my close family, most of my school friends, most of my uni friends, most of my work colleagues (past and present), lots of friends from belly dancing, family friends, people from my MSc course and the like. It's a big scattergun mix from young students and recent students through to older and senior post holders all round the place. And that makes me seriously wonder about posting anything super personal or super polictical or... well basically anything that I wouldn't shout in a crowded room of friends or employers. And that's a tad limiting psychologically.
It's a real conundrum and I'm still brewing on it in the same way I'm still getting used to having all my bookmarks on del.icio.us - do I really want friends and colleagues to know which bloggers I'm reading? Do they want to know? It may not be a problem when it's a library or tech thing I'm bookmarking but what about sex bloggers? Job ads? Political groups? On the one hand I've always felt very happy being open about everything but there is a big leap between taking the time to Google me vs having my every move thrust in your face when you log into Facebook or your email. And the option to disentangle everything would be to laugh in the face of Web 2.0 functionality... so...
What to do? And what to blog?
Going back a good 5 years I was blogging about personal stuff with random little brain outpourings that very few people actually read and most of those were people I knew. The first blog I wrote wasn't even on a blogging service but was a sqonky little home HTMLed little pink webpage. And now? Now I'm on Blogger and if that's not the definition of search optimised for blogging I don't know what is. Not only that but when I update my blog it gets about a bit - it publishes to its own feeds, it's feeds into my webpage (also linked to Twitter, Flickr etc) it feeds into my Facebook profile, and by extension people read that I've made updates in their Facebook feeds, their feedreaders and some of them get an email. So I have readers. Not a massive fanbase of course but lots of people I know will know when I make an update and that's some social pressure.
Indeed I'd go further, it's not just that people I know well get updated about these posts since Facebook is super insidious (though generally wonderful) and so those people include all of my close family, most of my school friends, most of my uni friends, most of my work colleagues (past and present), lots of friends from belly dancing, family friends, people from my MSc course and the like. It's a big scattergun mix from young students and recent students through to older and senior post holders all round the place. And that makes me seriously wonder about posting anything super personal or super polictical or... well basically anything that I wouldn't shout in a crowded room of friends or employers. And that's a tad limiting psychologically.
It's a real conundrum and I'm still brewing on it in the same way I'm still getting used to having all my bookmarks on del.icio.us - do I really want friends and colleagues to know which bloggers I'm reading? Do they want to know? It may not be a problem when it's a library or tech thing I'm bookmarking but what about sex bloggers? Job ads? Political groups? On the one hand I've always felt very happy being open about everything but there is a big leap between taking the time to Google me vs having my every move thrust in your face when you log into Facebook or your email. And the option to disentangle everything would be to laugh in the face of Web 2.0 functionality... so...
What to do? And what to blog?
Friday, 7 March 2008
Social Networking! It's the future
Thanks to Susan Mernit's excellent blog I found a good mini presentation on social networking, marketing and the future by Charlene Li. Enjoy! (ah, the magic of Slideshare)
Wednesday, 20 February 2008
Fitness, Fury and Faghaggery
Fitter
So firstly I am feeling, despite drinking lemsip as I type, a whole heap better today after a day off work sleeping, sleeping, sleeping and calming myself with Diagnosis Murder and Shaun the Sheep... Therapeutic stuff indeed. Also today's episode of Torchwood thanks to the magic of iPlayer as my missus (who came home at lunchtime today to make tonight's dinner and put it in the fridge like a true star) is out tonight at a meeting. It was a good Torchwood though I feel I'm missing out now that I've head about their alternative reality game The Torchwood Mission that goes with it curtosy of the Guardian Tech Weekly Podcast. Darn. BTW I'm all about the Ianto & Jack lovin. Sorta liking Martha Jones from Doctor Who (is it turning into a kids only show these days btw?) turning up. And worried greatly for Owen. Although he has weird skin. But I digress.
So, health mostly recovered, I am finally feeling up to homework which is how I shall spend the rest of this evening and tomorrow evening as I badly need to catch up and since this fortnight's topic is web2.0 and hypertext I'm all geared up and interested now that my head doesn't feel like a high pressure hot air balloon!
Fury!
Can you believe the new xenophobic immigration proposals today? Heather and I are irate not only because we have a little invested in the whole immigration law thing but also because we're not foaming crazed xenophobes. And we know just how much net contribution most immigrants make into the tax system. Indeed far from the tabloid view that all immigrants are benefits malingerers almost all legal immigrants are not actually allowed "recourse to public funds" until they are citizens after at least 5 years of residency here. And that's assuming they want to become citizens otherwise they get less recourse despite continuing to pay into the public purse. Perhaps all native dwellers who only take and do not contribute to the tax and national insurance systems should also have to make special payments as a malingerers tax to match the immigrant's tax. Or maybe we are a civilised country with a welfare state that should not be thinking that way.
Anyway the whole thing leaves me wondering:
a) What the fuck constitutes Britishness? I'm sure I don't know. And I suspect I wouldn't qualify if you tested me.
b) If Labour just turned slightly right wing of the BNP.
c) Just how many bloody bankers the government think they want in the country: with medical staff from outside the EU now barred, income and testing barriers to immigrants; £700+ fees for applications for leave to remain and the most prohibitive work permit applications possible they pretty much restrict non EU incomers to being millionaires in form-evading industries (who will likely keep their money elsewhere - like the "non-doms" the government is leaving in charge of Northern Rock) or illegal immigrants. "Normal" folks need not apply. Unless they wish to mortgage their soul and trade in their personality for a "British" cliche, Terrifying.
Faghaggary
On a much much lighter note. Today's Savage Love Podcast ended on a pleading note with Dan Savage, following a particularly sad caller ringing about the trauma of being a faghag who's fag was no longer interested, begging fags everywhere to be nice to their faghags when they've outgrown them. I felt quite the pang of sympathy as, whilst never invested in one of those straight girl/gay guy faghag situations (which is a bit different as there's always that weird possibility that maybe, just maybe, there'll be a full long term relationship not that very loving, very intense, very non-sexual thing to take a relationship's place) but being a bi/gay gal faghag is not wholly different so I can speak from experience that the break up of said almost relationship is quite traumatic. Thankfully my fag has stayed my pal but for a while there things were weird. And hey, we still hold quite the tie to each other. Anyway if you need a serious dose of education on faghags see The Object of My Affection. Far far far better than the borderline homophobic and generally excreble "comedy" Will & Grace where, regardless of how they sold the show, the will they/won't they plot was core to the entire horrible thing. Although Karen and Jack were far more a faghaggy pair they were just a bit too open to anything to properly get the vibe across. Wow. I'd forgotten how pleased I was when that show got cancelled. Phew...
Anyway I should go away and do my homework thang. And my Oscar ballot thang. Oh and to be impressed at the amazing age that Edna Everedge's eternal bridesmaid Madge reached - she just died aged 100 which is not bad at all especially as she only retired aged 98!
Oh and finally... I was listening to Radio 4's new Museum of Curiosity but I can't say I'm totally taken with it. Bill Bailey doesn't seem to be used to his best though Brian Blessed was entertaining and did a fabulous Tarzan call. Sean Lock's revolutionary scarf knot also gave me pause for thought. Problem is it seems to be Genius. Minus the geniuses... hmm...
So firstly I am feeling, despite drinking lemsip as I type, a whole heap better today after a day off work sleeping, sleeping, sleeping and calming myself with Diagnosis Murder and Shaun the Sheep... Therapeutic stuff indeed. Also today's episode of Torchwood thanks to the magic of iPlayer as my missus (who came home at lunchtime today to make tonight's dinner and put it in the fridge like a true star) is out tonight at a meeting. It was a good Torchwood though I feel I'm missing out now that I've head about their alternative reality game The Torchwood Mission that goes with it curtosy of the Guardian Tech Weekly Podcast. Darn. BTW I'm all about the Ianto & Jack lovin. Sorta liking Martha Jones from Doctor Who (is it turning into a kids only show these days btw?) turning up. And worried greatly for Owen. Although he has weird skin. But I digress.
So, health mostly recovered, I am finally feeling up to homework which is how I shall spend the rest of this evening and tomorrow evening as I badly need to catch up and since this fortnight's topic is web2.0 and hypertext I'm all geared up and interested now that my head doesn't feel like a high pressure hot air balloon!
Fury!
Can you believe the new xenophobic immigration proposals today? Heather and I are irate not only because we have a little invested in the whole immigration law thing but also because we're not foaming crazed xenophobes. And we know just how much net contribution most immigrants make into the tax system. Indeed far from the tabloid view that all immigrants are benefits malingerers almost all legal immigrants are not actually allowed "recourse to public funds" until they are citizens after at least 5 years of residency here. And that's assuming they want to become citizens otherwise they get less recourse despite continuing to pay into the public purse. Perhaps all native dwellers who only take and do not contribute to the tax and national insurance systems should also have to make special payments as a malingerers tax to match the immigrant's tax. Or maybe we are a civilised country with a welfare state that should not be thinking that way.
Anyway the whole thing leaves me wondering:
a) What the fuck constitutes Britishness? I'm sure I don't know. And I suspect I wouldn't qualify if you tested me.
b) If Labour just turned slightly right wing of the BNP.
c) Just how many bloody bankers the government think they want in the country: with medical staff from outside the EU now barred, income and testing barriers to immigrants; £700+ fees for applications for leave to remain and the most prohibitive work permit applications possible they pretty much restrict non EU incomers to being millionaires in form-evading industries (who will likely keep their money elsewhere - like the "non-doms" the government is leaving in charge of Northern Rock) or illegal immigrants. "Normal" folks need not apply. Unless they wish to mortgage their soul and trade in their personality for a "British" cliche, Terrifying.
Faghaggary
On a much much lighter note. Today's Savage Love Podcast ended on a pleading note with Dan Savage, following a particularly sad caller ringing about the trauma of being a faghag who's fag was no longer interested, begging fags everywhere to be nice to their faghags when they've outgrown them. I felt quite the pang of sympathy as, whilst never invested in one of those straight girl/gay guy faghag situations (which is a bit different as there's always that weird possibility that maybe, just maybe, there'll be a full long term relationship not that very loving, very intense, very non-sexual thing to take a relationship's place) but being a bi/gay gal faghag is not wholly different so I can speak from experience that the break up of said almost relationship is quite traumatic. Thankfully my fag has stayed my pal but for a while there things were weird. And hey, we still hold quite the tie to each other. Anyway if you need a serious dose of education on faghags see The Object of My Affection. Far far far better than the borderline homophobic and generally excreble "comedy" Will & Grace where, regardless of how they sold the show, the will they/won't they plot was core to the entire horrible thing. Although Karen and Jack were far more a faghaggy pair they were just a bit too open to anything to properly get the vibe across. Wow. I'd forgotten how pleased I was when that show got cancelled. Phew...
Anyway I should go away and do my homework thang. And my Oscar ballot thang. Oh and to be impressed at the amazing age that Edna Everedge's eternal bridesmaid Madge reached - she just died aged 100 which is not bad at all especially as she only retired aged 98!
Oh and finally... I was listening to Radio 4's new Museum of Curiosity but I can't say I'm totally taken with it. Bill Bailey doesn't seem to be used to his best though Brian Blessed was entertaining and did a fabulous Tarzan call. Sean Lock's revolutionary scarf knot also gave me pause for thought. Problem is it seems to be Genius. Minus the geniuses... hmm...
Saturday, 16 February 2008
Back from London, loving iPlayer, struggling to think...
Last weekend was an awesome assault on London culture with visits to the V&A, Tate Modern, The British Museum - including the terracotta warriors, War Horse at the National Theatre (including a genuinely thrilling backstage tour and use of the brilliant £5 standing tickets) and less cultural meals at Abano Okanami-Yaki, Taz, Breads etc., meetings with Anna, Scott and Mimi, and shopping at Sh! and Borough market. It was fab.
But at the start of the weekend I had a bit of a cold and by monday (after a thursday on a sleeper, early mornings and busy days friday, saturday and sunday) I was fully coldified but not ill enough to not be at work. Subsequently this week has included much less MSc homework than it should have, some really weird eating (chocolate features highly for convenience and comfort), and lots of viewing of weird stuff on BBC iPlayer. I would recommend, for instance, Saville Row (about tailors on the eponimous street) and a nameless BBC Wales documentary series which last week covered Mike Young (of SuperTed fame, he's a bit unconvincing and creepy but I have the dubious honour of having been his neighbour and having swum in his bubble-covered pool when little) and this week covered a couple setting up a Christian sex shop. They meant well but having recently been in Sh! it was immediately obvious where they were making all their mistakes... Oh and I want to know why anal sex is un Christian but cock rings are fine, why porn is bad but kinky underwear is ok, and why S&M is no go but implausibly aweful "sexy" boardgames are groovy. Surely if there is a god/s s/he/they have a high kink factor or a really weird sense of humour...
I did go to a great BBC Mobile thing at work this week which gave me hope that the downsides of the lovely new iPlayer - slow streams for some shows, bad suggestions, horrible navigation - will get there eventually. Exciting stuff. I'd love to work to the BBC - if their geek arms ever relocated north I'll be applying endlessly!
Anyway I have overdosed on sugar and melancholy today so I need to go back to homework to try and achieve something useful this week...
But at the start of the weekend I had a bit of a cold and by monday (after a thursday on a sleeper, early mornings and busy days friday, saturday and sunday) I was fully coldified but not ill enough to not be at work. Subsequently this week has included much less MSc homework than it should have, some really weird eating (chocolate features highly for convenience and comfort), and lots of viewing of weird stuff on BBC iPlayer. I would recommend, for instance, Saville Row (about tailors on the eponimous street) and a nameless BBC Wales documentary series which last week covered Mike Young (of SuperTed fame, he's a bit unconvincing and creepy but I have the dubious honour of having been his neighbour and having swum in his bubble-covered pool when little) and this week covered a couple setting up a Christian sex shop. They meant well but having recently been in Sh! it was immediately obvious where they were making all their mistakes... Oh and I want to know why anal sex is un Christian but cock rings are fine, why porn is bad but kinky underwear is ok, and why S&M is no go but implausibly aweful "sexy" boardgames are groovy. Surely if there is a god/s s/he/they have a high kink factor or a really weird sense of humour...
I did go to a great BBC Mobile thing at work this week which gave me hope that the downsides of the lovely new iPlayer - slow streams for some shows, bad suggestions, horrible navigation - will get there eventually. Exciting stuff. I'd love to work to the BBC - if their geek arms ever relocated north I'll be applying endlessly!
Anyway I have overdosed on sugar and melancholy today so I need to go back to homework to try and achieve something useful this week...
Monday, 14 January 2008
Tuesday, 4 December 2007
Insomnia
This morning on the way into work I found myself listening to an excellent wee essay from this week's Book of the Week on Radio4, At Large and at Small: Confessions of a Literary Hedonist By Anne Fadiman. Today Fadiman was talking about the fact that your likeliness to be a lark or an owl are actually hard coded into your DNA rather than just being habits. Her description of being a well adjusted owl was a reassuring burst given that I was listening as I lugged my immense mocha to work in a semi-comotosed state having the previous night been positively buzzing with energy come bed time.
And today here I am at 1am still fairly wide awake and with a wee pile of things to do before bed. Sometimes you just need to give in to night owl temptations I think. Although I don't have to give in to watching the OC which is currently polluting my audio landscape and is about to be unceremoniously switched off.
A whole lot better entertainment can be found with Dan Savage at the Stranger.com. John recommended his podcasts when he was staying recently and they are a catty explicit treat. Today I started subscribing at work and though the content is a little work inappropriatte, it's actually therapeutically wakeful and spikey in a day otherwise dominated by munging data and counting sets of 3 consecutive digits. Not that work is bad at all at the moment but in the pre-Xmas lack of goals and leave taking bonanza things are less than fabulously exciting. Especially with the charming December weather and light levels in Edinburgh at the moment which have me about fit to hibernate.
Thank goodness then for sleaze, sequins and stripping in the form of Burlescapades, a classy slice of kink that will be livening up Heather, Sarah and my Friday night. Having raided my substantial collection of ludicrous gowns (years of murder mystery parties have left me with a formidable dress up/formal collection) I eventually found my chosen combo: a chartreuse green showgirl skirt from an outfit I made for Vegas in about 2002/3, the corset I made for my wedding, the pearly necklace (to be draped on the corset) I made for a murder mystery where everyone was a colour (I was Lady Pearl White), several fabulously OTT plastic and glass rings, the chandelier earrings I bought in jenners some time back before they were evil (if not evil then certainly bland), my dress pins (yes that would be a matched pair of bling a ding ding retro brooches brought in two completely different places but fortuitously perfectly matched) and some necklace or other to be decided from the general beaded collection. All that remains to find/make are two kick ass fabric rosette type flowers to meld corset with skirt. And an outfit for Heather who is significantly less interested in such dressing up silliness. Which I mostly don't mind as I get to show off more but it's a shame as Burlescapades looks like a glam affair. Ho hum.
Which reminds me... Many many moons ago I used to write a column called "Dyke Without Dungarees Ranting" (see links at the end of this rant - I tried to find the inappropriate picture but now I get a lot of political pics as Google thinks I mean some unholy combo of Nicola Sturgeon and George Osborne :::::shudder::::) and a friend at the university's then excellent gay group BLOG's (now more a guys dating network than the serious minded lesbian-led political group it was circa 1999) told me I needed to write about the nightmare that was PMT in a long term relationship. At the time I was single, nieve, and less than enlightened about the sheer predictability of much of life's crankiness. I now believe said lady so expect the theme to raise its ugly head if/when I get around to updating this blog at a suitable time.
Now is not the time though: I have loads of transatlantic pressies I swore would be wrapped before bed, work tomorrow and a world of panicking over how few christmas shopping days there are left to take precedent...
For now I will leave you with links to my former column:
I can't find a feminine lesbian for love nor money!
Rant of the Month: Nicola Osborne on the gay press
And an excellent film that all this Googling reminded me to rerecommend (review hosted by the lovely Amber and co at eyeforfilm:
Lifetime Guarantee: Phranc's Adventures in Plastic
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