rustlemybustle

I never know what to put here anymore! 

• George R. Binks: The Tragic Story of Jar Jar's Father is a good comic. 
• I can't work out if Hugh Herr is a waiting to blossum supervillain or superhero.
• I've been reading so, so much about James Barry and military medical practices! I think I have ideas
• Why don't our universities have as much fun as the guys at MIT seem to? I do dream a lot about being smart in that sort of way. I blame watching Real Genius as a kid. What was my point? Right, so I have a few friends at Fitzwilliam in Cambridge and the most they seem to do is have welcoming sherry parties (no, seriously) and once I was told about how they had to wear disguises to get drinks, or something. It certainly wasn't roofhacking.
• I cracked my finger so hard with the yo-yo a week ago, guys. There is a blood blister there! Who does that.
• Dream house in Sheffield fell through. Sort of suspected it might, because c'mon! £40 a week rent all included, SW1, three bedroom house? So we're back to square one. I should be relieved- the landlady was starting to come of as proper mental. I was starting to imagine waking up in the morning and her having let herself in to tidy and make cups of tea.
• The anti-fascist march in Middlesbrough went ok. Got absolutely drenched, but we were welcomed to the mosque on Waterloo and welcomed with tea and shelter despite dripping all over everywhere. It also meant the SWP couldn't be quite so rampant in their fliering, which I certainly wasn't going to complain about.
• For the guys that are snooping and don't have me friended- Pride went great! Made new friends, had adventures. Neat.

I dumped a load of the scribbles I did at the D'israeli presentation. He talked solidly from 2p.m to 7.30p.m!

Have you ever noticed how similar Phineas Gage and Jeremy Brett look?

I'm knackered. Been working pretty hard the past 40 hours or so to get my essay finished up. I made a big mistake, chose 'electroencephalography and it's place in natural user interfaces', which meant I was bullshitting my way through all this information I could barely understand, haha. I got to talk about brain jacks and the Nintendo Power Glove, though, so I guess it worked out all right.

So I'm back at home, which is nice. This is Lieutenant Broccoli, who is my mother's guinea-pig. He is a BULLY, but I've been putting him in his place. 

My mother came into my room this morning and knelt by my bed and said to me 'I know you've been feeling down lately, I can tell because you've lost your spark. I love you, so I bought you this filofax and this sleepy bedtime mist.' 

I have to admit, the filofax is nice. I mean, I am still feeling a bit down, but at least I can't use it as an excuse for being late to all the important business engagements I have to keep.

So I met Bryan Lee O'Malley the other night! He rocked. I mean, really fucking rocked.

I arrived in the queue at about 4, thinking I'd be maybe 20th in the que - I was at the 50 mark. By the time it was 5p.m there were over 200 waiting. We were snaked all down Market street to the point where Subway had to keep begging us to move from the doorways. This wouldn't have been a problem but it was so hot and sunny that the poor 20 or so that were stuck around the corner were in full blast from the sun and there was no way they could stand for two hours in the heat.



The previous signing's I've been to at Page 45 I've been able to wait inside the shop, so it was fun being in the main queue. Tom was running up and down enforcing 'Pg. 45 rules' in the queue which basically came down to 'do what you want but don't take the piss', and he was holding the places for people who were on their own.

I am terrible at these things - presenting yourself in front of someone you admire and having about 2 minutes to say or ask something that doesn't make you seem like a complete moron is totally beyond me. But it worked out all right, I think I was probably a 3 on the 'dumb things to say to people you like' scale, with 10 being 'I WANT TO BE INSIDE YOU'.

This is a picture of a picture of me and Ollie. He has some scarring on his liver, but nothing that they're worrying about. He's a month old and he has the most incredible laugh, although he doesn't have control over his eye directions yet. 'He's the most beautiful, goofy looking baby', is what his dad described him as.



I received this subspace communicate earlier today:

"Look, dude, I'm not one to judge what people do in their own time, but I just got a visit from a very nice man from the Department of Temporal Investigations and he left this with me. He said something about "That jerk captain ruining the neutral zone for everybody" and "offending Romulan sensibilities". I think he wants me to remove you from the timeline? Anyway he was in a bit of a hurry because his timeship was on fire, so, I dunno, stop being such a jerk in the future I guess? Also hire a better space-artist, JEEZ."

THANKS LIZ, believing the fracking DPI over your friend of two years. Fracking DPI and their fracking lies, didn't even give me a chance to explain at the tribunal.

I'm super in love with these dice, and they'd be perfect for Star Trek games, but £2.50 a die? Shiiiiit.

My brother's an official 'guardian'. Welcome to the world, Oliver Timothy! I can't believe that my friend's a dad now, and my brother's got a baby named after him. The baby is a beautiful, pudgy little thing, all indignant rage and naps. He looks like a little beached seal; when Oliver came out his nails were too long and he has to wear these oversized gloves until he's strong enough for them to be cut.Babies are a new and incredible thing to me, but Tim's always been one of those people who just gets kids. I can't think of a better fake uncle, guardian, godfather, whatever you want to call it.

Going to be semi-offline for the next week or so for Glastonbury prep and recovery.

If anyone out there wants to try and find me look for a fat dude with half curly hair, half shaved. Dressed in either black or electric blue, maybe with a ukelele, probably with a green rucksack. I'll either be:

In the Tiny Tea Tent
Somewhere in leftfield enjoying being off-duty from Unite Against Fascism for the first time in two years (for the first two days)
In the cabaret tent trying to kiss Robin Ince.
Washing dishes anywhere that sells falafel.
Somewhere in leftfield wishing I'd signed up to help with the UAF (for the rest of the week).

Wish me luck; it's been sunny for 3 years in a row, let's make it 4, y'all.