h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

So, on Sunday I'm gonna go and see The Birthday Massacre at The Islington Academy. Which should be good...
Then I will go a look for a place to sleep in Borough. There's a hostel I've stayed at there before, where I've spent an evening smoking joints with illegal Russian immigrants, fending off Australians that want you to give them your money and one fun night spent with a French backpacker who flicked her French bean for me. (This was long time ago, maybe five years, I was younger, slimmer and less inhibited).
Why am I heading all the way over to Borough when I could easily find a bunk in Camden? Because I have to be up early the next day and wander over to the Tate Modern, there a set of workshops and stuff to promote the creative talents of people with PDs and the usefulness of finding a creative outlet. So that should be interesting.
If The Birthday Massacre are good I know I won't be able to sleep, I'll be all a buzz and totally zombiefied the next day... fun.

Lurking with intent?

I don't know if I'm going to this Tate Modern thing...

I know I'm *not* gonna do the Tate. I'm lame and I suck.

Presumably the workshops are devised in such a way as to walk you through it regardless of your ability, so that even the lamest person will have something they're pleased with at the end. That's certainly how writing workshops tend to be done if they're worth their salt. The only person who really needs to worry about their performance is the teacher, because if you have trouble doing what they ask, it's all down to them.

There will be people at the workshop whom you'll consider Better Than You, but you'll probably enjoy what they do too much to feel resentful. And there will be people whom you'll think just ain't got a clue, but that won't matter, because it's all for fun and there are no marks at the end. Workshops tend to have an atmosphere of bonhomie, because you're all in it together and none of you are sure where it's gonna go.



Me, I've been seriously considering packing in the teaching of my writing workshops. Because I'm lame and I suck!

Or has that post of mine come too late to talk you into going?

I was having fourth thoughts (I'm so decisive) by the time I reached Redhill on the long journey home.

I learned the other week that the OT can't come and I've not heard anything one of the other folk that were doing STEPPS.
The workshops I appear to have been allocated aren't the ones I was hoping for.
Also I wasn't really in the mood for forking out 20 quid to stay at St Christopher's Inn or a tenner for the hostel of ill-repute.

But if I can drag my sorry self out of bed in five hours time I may head off to the Tate and if I decide I'm not liking the workshops I can sod off around the place on my oddyknocky and maybe clear off to the Soane's or the Natural History museum or whatever...

The Birthday Massacre rocked!
I left wanting more than ever to keep Chibi in a cage in my basement. It would mean actually digging myself a basement, but it would sooooooo be worth the effort! Even saucier in real life than anything I'd see before had lead me to imagine...
The support band was Psycho Luna. Who were good enough to dance to in my opinion. It was a little disconcerting that the female guitarist (aren't girls with bass guitars ever so erotic) seemed to be watching me, perhaps I stood out as one of the few people dancing, or she had stage fright and was keeping under control by looking for the person on the floor who she thought would look silliest nekid. if I didn't look silly enough as it was... Leila Lugosi it seems is the name she goes by... presumably a ref to Island Of Lost Souls... or could just be that she was staring at me because I was staring at her, she being super sexy hot German girl with bass guitar. Who knows?
There were as many cybergoths and gothic lolitas as I'd expected. There were a few Chibis though, between acts there was lovely (as in intelligent and friendly looking as well as tastey) looking corseted girl whom I was about to engaged in conversation in hopes of least getting a dance with her, but was beaten to it, so I finished my Grolsch and went off in search of decent spot to bump my grind alone.

Yes. Girls with bass guitars (especially low-slung ones) are ever so erotic.

Hers was indeed low-slung.

indeed.

My GP agrees.

"Take two female bassists for what ails you."

I am very lucky to have my GP.

My therapist is too sexy.

I had a therapist like that. :D

It's a sign I'm coming out of the being the way I was for a few years. For long time I'd sit there panfully aware of just how unaware of her obvious sexyness I was.

Hope it doesn't get too painful the other way now! I'm in a nigh-constant state of sexual frustration myself these days.