The poet, and the artist; the vegan, and the man who plays with animal parts
London, I've returned to you. I only wish I could have done it with a bit more style.
The flight was horrendous. Delayed for nearly five hours due to some sort of terrorist threat at LAX. For once, I didn't mind the wait terribly, a new laptop purchased on my way to the airport kept me in touch with those I care about.
Especially Steven. Ta for whiling away the hours with me, I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and it was probably the best talk we've ever had.
Finally, I was allowed to board, and took my seat. Insomnia had claimed my last night in Los Angeles, and I was looking forward to the chance to rest my weary head and fall blissfully to sleep, only to open my eyes upon arrival at Heathrow.
It was not to be.
So I ordered a drink.
Waiting for hours in the airport bar had already whet my appetite, so to speak. I asked for a "double". The stewardess grimaced, and mentioned something about FAA regulations and the perils of "air rage". Before she could finish, I politely suggested she bring me two drinks at the same time, and slipped her a nice tip for her trouble. Fortunately, she obliged. Unfortunately, the drinks didn't serve to put me to sleep.
I continued ordering, and she continued serving. I don't honestly recall anything past the third hour on the flight.
When next the haze cleared for a moment, Kells was loading me into a taxi, laughing and scolding me for being such a terror in the terminal. We had only a few hours before the Ash/Supergrass show, and I was scheduled to meet a date in a nearby pub beforehand. Giving no thought to cancelling (it's been much too long to miss an opportunity) due to my state, I was dropped off at the bar and did my best to be a charming genteman.
Unfortunately charm is difficult to maintain when one is being held upright by the object of one's affections. Damien was a tremendously good sport, and I'll have to find a way to make it up to him on our next meeting, should he allow it.
The show itself, was amazing, I'm positive. At least that's what I've been told. My apologies to dear Timmy and Gaz for not paying more attention.
The one thing that makes it all worthwhile is having an attractive and thoroughly amazing gentleman seeing you safely to bed, whispering tender sweetness into your ear when he thinks you might be asleep.
HewlettZombie: i should hunt you down and kill you right now. you're lucky i haven't already.
mockmozzer: Oh, do stop it Jamie. I may be forced to fall in love with you.
HewlettZombie: do and you won't live to tell the tale you sick faggot.
mockmozzer: Now you're just being rude.
HewlettZombie: give me one fucking reason not to be. you're on thin ice as it is.
mockmozzer: Oh, do calm down and take your medication. What on earth have I ever done to you, besides tell the truth?
HewlettZombie: tell the truth in what. you don't know anyfuckingthing about me, twat. and it's going to stay that way.
mockmozzer: I can live with that. I know what I see, and say what I know, and that's never going to change.
mockmozzer: Your psychotic episodes are most entertaining, besides.
HewlettZombie: glad you're enjoying it. wait til you get to witness one first hand.
mockmozzer: It takes a very big man to threaten another's life over the internet, Hewlett, and it's quite another thing to follow through in person.
mockmozzer: Tell me what I've done to deserve your hatred?
HewlettZombie: fine. where do you live. i'll be there directly.
HewlettZombie: and to answer... the fact that you're still alive rather irritates me.
mockmozzer: Yes, well, I'm sure with your attitude I'm be sure to outlive you, for health reasons alone.
mockmozzer: And if you want my address, perhaps you should ask Alex. I think he might know it.
HewlettZombie: you're not helping your case one bit. of course, you've always been a miserable cunt with a death wish. i'm happy to oblige.
mockmozzer: Perhaps I'll just have you over for tea.
HewlettZombie: yeah. why don't you do that.
The flight was horrendous. Delayed for nearly five hours due to some sort of terrorist threat at LAX. For once, I didn't mind the wait terribly, a new laptop purchased on my way to the airport kept me in touch with those I care about.
Especially Steven. Ta for whiling away the hours with me, I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and it was probably the best talk we've ever had.
Finally, I was allowed to board, and took my seat. Insomnia had claimed my last night in Los Angeles, and I was looking forward to the chance to rest my weary head and fall blissfully to sleep, only to open my eyes upon arrival at Heathrow.
It was not to be.
So I ordered a drink.
Waiting for hours in the airport bar had already whet my appetite, so to speak. I asked for a "double". The stewardess grimaced, and mentioned something about FAA regulations and the perils of "air rage". Before she could finish, I politely suggested she bring me two drinks at the same time, and slipped her a nice tip for her trouble. Fortunately, she obliged. Unfortunately, the drinks didn't serve to put me to sleep.
I continued ordering, and she continued serving. I don't honestly recall anything past the third hour on the flight.
When next the haze cleared for a moment, Kells was loading me into a taxi, laughing and scolding me for being such a terror in the terminal. We had only a few hours before the Ash/Supergrass show, and I was scheduled to meet a date in a nearby pub beforehand. Giving no thought to cancelling (it's been much too long to miss an opportunity) due to my state, I was dropped off at the bar and did my best to be a charming genteman.
Unfortunately charm is difficult to maintain when one is being held upright by the object of one's affections. Damien was a tremendously good sport, and I'll have to find a way to make it up to him on our next meeting, should he allow it.
The show itself, was amazing, I'm positive. At least that's what I've been told. My apologies to dear Timmy and Gaz for not paying more attention.
The one thing that makes it all worthwhile is having an attractive and thoroughly amazing gentleman seeing you safely to bed, whispering tender sweetness into your ear when he thinks you might be asleep.
HewlettZombie: i should hunt you down and kill you right now. you're lucky i haven't already.
mockmozzer: Oh, do stop it Jamie. I may be forced to fall in love with you.
HewlettZombie: do and you won't live to tell the tale you sick faggot.
mockmozzer: Now you're just being rude.
HewlettZombie: give me one fucking reason not to be. you're on thin ice as it is.
mockmozzer: Oh, do calm down and take your medication. What on earth have I ever done to you, besides tell the truth?
HewlettZombie: tell the truth in what. you don't know anyfuckingthing about me, twat. and it's going to stay that way.
mockmozzer: I can live with that. I know what I see, and say what I know, and that's never going to change.
mockmozzer: Your psychotic episodes are most entertaining, besides.
HewlettZombie: glad you're enjoying it. wait til you get to witness one first hand.
mockmozzer: It takes a very big man to threaten another's life over the internet, Hewlett, and it's quite another thing to follow through in person.
mockmozzer: Tell me what I've done to deserve your hatred?
HewlettZombie: fine. where do you live. i'll be there directly.
HewlettZombie: and to answer... the fact that you're still alive rather irritates me.
mockmozzer: Yes, well, I'm sure with your attitude I'm be sure to outlive you, for health reasons alone.
mockmozzer: And if you want my address, perhaps you should ask Alex. I think he might know it.
HewlettZombie: you're not helping your case one bit. of course, you've always been a miserable cunt with a death wish. i'm happy to oblige.
mockmozzer: Perhaps I'll just have you over for tea.
HewlettZombie: yeah. why don't you do that.