What's up, you ask? A few things, actually. I will not become institutionally distracted starting this fall, because apparently they've moved the recruitment phase since I last checked, but i'm still seriously thinking of dipping my toe back into academia for a moment. We'll see how I feel about that come June.
I also had a random chat with Asia recently and we came up with what in hindsight seems like a glaringly obvious idea, which for once I would really like to pursue all the way to its inevitable demise at the hands of reality. We're in the very, very early development stages, but we seem to have at least a couple of things going for us, so... damn, I at least want to be able to say I've tried. Sorry about the vagueness, but I already dread people asking me about that thing I meant to do and me having to explain how it all went to hell.
I went out with the three A's tonight, vaguely aware that at some point dancing might be involved (that's: went out dancing, in adjustedspeak). I made every preparation - tried to get wasted with my companions at home beforehand, tarted myself up a wee bit, hummed Kylie in my head... alas, the first place we landed at offered us a thumping beat and not much else (the highlight was a pretty bad remix of a very boring La Roux song). I would have tried at least going through the motions for the sake of the people who invited us there... had I any motions to go through. Unfortunately, that is not the case, so we moved to Kulturalna, where the music was equally thumpy, but with a funky twist. After downing some more vodkas and focusing hard on "having some fun" I managed to enjoy about a number and a half, but then shit got electro, the music left me, and I decided to vacate the premises.
The moral of the story is: I seem to have temporarily misplaced the ability to get drunk socially. I only feel the benefits once I detach, and am suddenly able to languish in the heightened/distorted impact of my own music, and the city pulsing around me in the night. Which, incidentally, often makes the walk home the most enjoyable part of the evening.
Meanwhile, tomorrow could make for a nice and vivid memory, or become an unmitigated disaster. Right now I'm totally not feeling having to prance around a huge shopping mall in full-on 60s picnic garb, but there seems to be no way around it. Then again, hey...
Nope. I got nothing.
I also had a random chat with Asia recently and we came up with what in hindsight seems like a glaringly obvious idea, which for once I would really like to pursue all the way to its inevitable demise at the hands of reality. We're in the very, very early development stages, but we seem to have at least a couple of things going for us, so... damn, I at least want to be able to say I've tried. Sorry about the vagueness, but I already dread people asking me about that thing I meant to do and me having to explain how it all went to hell.
I went out with the three A's tonight, vaguely aware that at some point dancing might be involved (that's: went out dancing, in adjustedspeak). I made every preparation - tried to get wasted with my companions at home beforehand, tarted myself up a wee bit, hummed Kylie in my head... alas, the first place we landed at offered us a thumping beat and not much else (the highlight was a pretty bad remix of a very boring La Roux song). I would have tried at least going through the motions for the sake of the people who invited us there... had I any motions to go through. Unfortunately, that is not the case, so we moved to Kulturalna, where the music was equally thumpy, but with a funky twist. After downing some more vodkas and focusing hard on "having some fun" I managed to enjoy about a number and a half, but then shit got electro, the music left me, and I decided to vacate the premises.
The moral of the story is: I seem to have temporarily misplaced the ability to get drunk socially. I only feel the benefits once I detach, and am suddenly able to languish in the heightened/distorted impact of my own music, and the city pulsing around me in the night. Which, incidentally, often makes the walk home the most enjoyable part of the evening.
Meanwhile, tomorrow could make for a nice and vivid memory, or become an unmitigated disaster. Right now I'm totally not feeling having to prance around a huge shopping mall in full-on 60s picnic garb, but there seems to be no way around it. Then again, hey...
Nope. I got nothing.
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