There was a time, not so long ago,

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So I dreamed I was in London, last night, with a bunch of the coworkers (my boss, the CEO, the community manager I overlap with) and Mickey Rourke.
It rained a lot.

Weird weird dream.

I like this whole 'having a job' thingy.

As I will actually have some disposable income out of this check and there is a retail outlet or two that I can see from the office windows, I have a question for you, gentle reader.

What newer bands (last few years or so) should I pick up? I'm a huge fan of British Sea Power & Placebo, while Bright Eyes leaves me cold. Bowie's a perennial favorite, I've been listening to a lot of David Sylvian lately.

It's interesting realizing that me getting employed again was, in fact, a weird fluke and that most people are getting unemployed, at present.

Nghl.

Economy, stop sucking, goddamnit.

So I'm looking for a place to repair my skeleton mechanical wristwatch that someone snapped the crown on.
Its a pretty simple repair-- but it's a $400 dollar watch, so I rather want it done right.

Suggestions?

You know, it's just fun coming home from a vacation and then having to pack for a business trip that happens 2 days after one flies home.

I did, at least, manage to get my sleep schedule back on track in one night. That's something of an accomplishment, for me.

Oh- and for those who may have been wondering about what the weird crazy odd band (named the Trans-Siberian March Band) which I saw on Saturday night sounded like, There are MP3s on their site.

Wow, but there should be laws involved about having flown more than 10 hours meaning it should only take a half-hour to get through customs and out to the sidewalk for your first smoke.

FUCK.

I wouldn't mind laws regarding getting to my front door in a comparable span of time after that first smoke.

But yes. in SF for tonight, tomorrow night, and heading down to LA on Wednesday.
Oh how I love the employment.

Driving through Dulwich, made the following observation:

'I see people in the field, playing cricket. I can tell because they're all in white and standing about doing absolutely nothing'.

Off to Banksy vs. the Bristol Museum.

In case we die...
On 52 bus, outbound from Victoria tube.
Small child just shrieked (we both heard it) "BRAIIINS!!!"
...Could be start of Zombie Apocalypse. More later, if we survive the journey.

Today was spent going 'oh chripes my feet hurt' repeatedly, then watching a film with lyricagent.
Am currently putzing around online with the plan of going to a show tonight by the Trans-Siberian March Band.

They can be found here. There're mp3s on the site, too.
Bitches had better have a CD available at the merch desk, dammit.

'Living in lies by the railway lines/ can't tell the bullshit from the lies'
'losing my head to Hollywood/ my liver to London'
'Someone scrawled on the wall "I smell the blood of les tricoteuses"'

Yesterday, had the wonderful experience of meeting doroc_sabah's mum. She's terrifically funny, very sweet, and loved her 'out, damned spot!' tea towel (done a la Ralph Steadman).

Then we had dinner, at the end of which SHE insisted we had to pay up and get out because Torchwood was about to start. This says a lot about his mum, huh.

Thus back to theirs for the show, and then doroc_sabah and I did a bit of a pub crawl. Brits really do drink to an extent that I have to try to keep up with.

THen out of bed in the morning, a bit of coffee and a slice of shortbread for breakfast, out on the town, through Edinburgh Uni, to a sushi shop, around the royal mile, got lyricagent the worst souvenir ever (this is a bit of a competition with lyricagent's friends, I think I've won).

Made it to Edinburgh. The train ride was singularly painless. Lovely day up here- sunny and clear, mostly (the rain has spat at us once). doroc_sabah is still his charming self, and we're about to trundle out of his place to see this and that about town.

Later, boozeahol consumption will ensue.

So I was out of bed before 0700 (I'd forgotten that such hours EXIST). Showered, tracked down last few items, broke my fast, to train to tube to King's Cross train station (sidebar: I know this is a possessive and there was a cross which was the King's around here once, but I always read the station as the declarative case: the King's cross! Look inobtrusive!), where I currently wait for the FLYING SCOTSMAN to take me to Edinburgh.
...I do hope there's no trebuchet involved.

...Does one get, in Greater London, directions including 'go past the flamingos'?

And mate, THOSE are called GEESE.

Yesterday:
train to Victoria Station, underground to St. Paul's cathedral. Pottered about there a bit, then crossed the millennium bridge to Shakespeare's Globe.
Hung about watching a technical rehearsal of Troilus & Cressida for a bit, then back across the bridge. Along the embankment a ways, then up to Fleet. Didn't find a meatpie for sale, doubled back, followed Cannon Street. Didn't find the London Stone, doubled back to a 'traditional Irish' pub (it's part of a chain), had a meat pie there, as well as some guinness. Out to the Tower of London, back along the Embankment all the way past Cleopatra's Needle (and it was raining so I couldn't get a good shot of it), parked my butt in the pub at Victoria station to kill time. Also, a full month's worth of rain fell yesterday.
Total mileage walked: About 5.5
Got back to the house, watched the first half of the new Torchwood episode, and passed out before the second half started.

Today:
got up (still on the couch!), not very achey (which, considering all I was lugging with me yesterday, , was impressive!). Finished off the Torchwood ep, had breakfast, and made plans to go see the salvage from the Mary Rose that's on exhibit in South Croydon.

Tomorrow: Get up early, trundle off to the train, in to Victoria, then up to King's Cross, from whence I depart to Edinburgh. See what's to see there, then spending the night there w/ doroc_sabah and his mum, then heading back up to London Fri evening.

Many things were not found today. Among them were:
-dry weather (it poured!!!)
-the London Stone (wiki it): they are putting up offices around it, so I STILL haven't touched the blessed thing
-a block on Fleet Street that didn't seem in a rush
-a meatpie on any block of Fleet

Other things were found, including:
-a couple Shakespeare-themed gifts
-a nice panorama of the Thames from the Millennium Bridge
-a crowded noisy Irish pub, with delicious Guinnessy goodness
-the fact I can walk miles without whinging, of late

Am waiting on my meatpie now, down Cannon a bit from Fleet, and watching lightning out the window.

So today's poking around on the intertubes, having killed season 2 of Dexter, revealed that oh yeah, Bowie's South London residence was in a now-demolished building named Haddon Hall, in the same Southern suburb I'm staying in.

A little more poking around revealed a street address, which was plugged into Google Maps and well... if Haddon Hall still stood, then their back garden? would abut onto the back garden of the house I'm staying in.

I find this an hysterically funny coincidence, for reasons which only people who grasp what a Bowie freak I am could understand. Because I didn't plan this, and if I could have I so would have.

EDIT to add AIM log:
colubra: and there's one of the foxes from the back garden, up nosing about on the deck.

andstillitmoves: YOU CANNOT INTERVIEW HIM ABOUT BOWIE RELATED FOX RACIAL MEMORIES.

As convo with friend reminded me of the differentiations here, I figured I'd outline here what differentiates London's gay pride parade / festival from the San Francisco one.

1: everyone remains clothed below the waist.
2: they have public areas that can ACCOMODATE over 100k people.
3: the civility of the crowd is astonishing.
4: Boy George was a tiny little man, about 20' away.

So I'm sitting in the guest room writing this. After putting together furniture the night prior to last night, a bunch of Dexter was watched. Then bed.

Up, and so to the shower, breaking of fast, and then off to London Pride. This felt a heck of a lot less crowded than the SF Pride celebrations. lyricagent is smarter than me and managed to remember to bring a camera- I'll be borrowing some of the shots that were taken. Among highlights:
-the sheer politeness of various people in saying things like 'oh, you're turned about, aren't you?' and pointing me in the right direction
-discovering I'm a hell of a lot more willing to say 'I may be mistaken about where we're going: where's the ay to zed?' and only getting a block or two out of the way.
-the cheerful willingness of others to tell me where the pink-red-and-white Union Jacks were for sale
-being able to pass that info on to someone who wanted to buy the flag I'd bought for myself
-trudging around in circles upon circles through Trafalgar, Piccadilly, Charing Cross, and so on- probably 6 hours on my feet, all told
-lyricagent spotting Trevor Horn (Art of Noise, produced Yes' album 90125, the Angel Heart soundtrack, as well as Grace Jones, Pet Shop Boys' album Fundamental, among a hell of a lot of other things) on his way out of a Pizza Express
-coming home completely exhausted with two bottles of white wine we didn't even touch
-seeing Boy George performing live at a small stage about 20-30 feet away, duetting with a fabulous tranny on a sort of country song titled 'Spoiling It For the Others'. info here, as well as a listen-here link: I suspect that this would be a terrific theme song for the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.

Today, after all that trudging around, is going to be quiet. Booked my travel for Edinburgh: I'll be there for a bit more than 24 hours, hanging out with bogboblin and his mum. This should be entertaining- and so should getting into King's Cross @ 23:30 and making my way into the South on my own.

Probably finishing off season 1 of Dexter in a bit, and maybe visiting the Croydon Forbidden Planet to pick up a copy of Final Watch, as not a single shop in the city I live in has this beast on the shelves (I called everywhere I thought might, before leaving, as I was HOPING to read it on the plane to London). Some gameplan for forthcoming week will happen, too, as the Royal Academy of Arts has a J. W. Waterhouse exhibition on and that's something I want to take in- so's the Mary Rose salvaged stuff that's in Croydon.

Mollie Sugden passed away. Not sure who she was?


I can't help but imagine she would've actually appreciated this.