Another Show

Dear Diary,

Man! I was so wasted the other night! After making it back from lectures, through the torrential downpour, I awoke, and before I could go to Church, I was collared by Larry and the sax' player. We shared thoughts, and cyder, a little livener, can't do any harm, can it?

Back to someone's gaff and it was more cyder, smokes, all manner of ... intoxicants, somewhere else, then back for some of 'the special stuff' (100% proof apple brandy, that does not taste at all like apple).

In between time, when I was at home, I noticed another sketch book of Dover had arrived. I kicked myself that I never made it to his exhibition. This latest work is as good as ever. I am blessed to have so many gifts from an excellent artist friend.

My folks showed up briefly, I just about kept it together, knowing how out of it I was.

I made it to the gig in a state. I could bearly walk, stand, talk, breath, but... I could play guitar. Though I pined a little for a banjo (Gulliver never showed up, at least he had the courtesy of calling to let us know) so anyway, I played on 'auto-pilot' and judging from the video-footage, not that bad at all. I did quite a few imaginative solos, even played Sweaty Betty the Banjuitar on the slide throughout Layla, and even Harry faltering occasionally was jovial, but he always makes a good recovery: pro' class.

Then, later on at night, during after-party Harry had noticed that an SM-58 microphone had been pinched (£200 quids worth). We suspected who may be the culprit, some aussie guy hanging around the equipment. He had already pinched an Olympic torch procession sign, and offered to put up my friend "Bo" (Rainbow Ecosse-Icelandic ecologist, physicist, philosopher and historian). I saw him with a bin-liner full of stuff, eating a Chinese with his hands. I told him about the aussie who might be able to help him out. The suspected thief from down-under had dissappeared, and I was left with a rather embarrassing situation of having a poor (albeit well-read, and well-meaning) hobo in the pub, hands covered in chop suey, carrying a bin-liner with his life in.

I couldn't handle it, and went out to sleep in 'the coffin' out the back (a rectangular wooden crate). The last hapless fool to slumber in the reciptical was the scouser, who I discovered had been really nasty to everybody in the pub that night we all tried to help him. He became very aggressive, but luckily Larry and Azeef managed to sling him out eventually. I saw him the next day, bin-liner containing all his worldly goods. Waiting at a bus-stop.

Anyway, other things have gone missing from the pub of late, not least of which my fountain pen, also a large pouch of baccy of Harry's, not to mention the till being down. It all just doesn't add up. Words were said and actions too intense for me to suspect who it was behind the theft, though I have no conclusive evidence so cannot voice my accusations. Not that I could do so. I just have to remember to take my guitar with me everywhere, even to the loo: no matter how drunk I get. Be a Zen-master Max - forget this 'stuff' which owns us.

The following day had some sunshine, in the form of a Quantified Interactive Storytelling session. The characters we had are ... pretty crazy, but passionate about the game. I haven't played a 'proper' session since I started Uni', all we seemed to do is roll up characters, which, although is vaugely amusing, it's not getting a decent game in. The lateral thinking involved and the sharpening of the imagination puts it way ahead of any computer games, which become boring so very quickly. With the exception of one game last December, we haven't robused properly in ages. Here is the link to my write up of the session (it's only the first draft, and I keep getting muddled between the past and present tense, I must rectify that shortly):

http://www.obsidianportal.com/campaign/snuggle-nook/adventure-log

So, anyway, after the session, the 'new guy' stayed a short while. We talked and I cannot begin to tell you how wierdly fascinating this bloke was. You would not believe how far-out he is in his mind. Puts me to shame; and here I was thinking I had serious psychological issues to work through: I am tame in comparison.

The man spent two years as a 'vigilante' in town. Dressing up in his 'Reaper' super-hero outfit, taking on any thugs and rectifying injustice wherever he saw it. This man is a real bat-man. I mean, serious. Grave. One way of him dealing with the alter-ego is that he is a talented artist and is turning his adventures into a comic book about his life. So that is an excellent way of him dealing with the transition back to reality, and fruitful too. I can see why I strayed away from living in a fantasy world now. Reality is good, and escapsim is to be had in moderation. I knew another guy, equally as crazy (well, quite a few of them actually) except that this loon would go around a festival on hallucinogens, rolling a twenty-sider to determine what he would do next! Like that crazy book where the serial killer choses whether his victims would die on the toss of a dice; or Xavier Bardem's character in the movie No Country for Old Men. Call it. What? Just call it.

We finally finished cleaning Stig's room, I am sat here now. It is a remarkable improvement. He will no-doubt go spare when he gets back, I just don't care. It needed doing, badly. What else has happened? I am to pass the night here, to help out with the market stall tomorrow. I might even go busking, but I just don't know if I can face begging anymore. Then I am to help pack it up, after which is the resumption of guitar tuition with the reluctant artist. (Painter and would-be musician)

The studies are going rather well. We even had a little movement on the forum, and it looks like a photo-finish on the current group essay vote (on the image selection). I am to study prosthetic limbs, artefacts with the theme of 'awe and wonder' contextualised under the heading 'the Human Body'. Groovy. I will probably do a little research, maybe even a spot of writing (if the others wish help); but most likely I will proceed as planned: edit other people's work. Though I hasten to add, I have informed the others in the group, my colleauges, that I will consult and collaborate with them first before doing so. Strike some compromise, find some middle-ground, be neutral, impartial, objective. Aye. This is the benevolent-Stalinist in action. Roll on the final essay, let's get this mod' done.

Maximus Fleximus