noel's wrong about the rainbow
And it goes. I had cramps from hell that liberally dosed (read: what would Dr. House do?) naproxen didn't fix so I added a dash of tequila and looked at stuff about Albania. For one reason or the other, I feel much better! And a bit woozy. But better. Like dancing.
So, Albania! I'm falling more and more in love (and slight trepidation) with the idea. Try googling for Tirana, you get the blogs of people who travel like I pretend to travel when I meet them along the way. People who have these crazy vague itineraries and who change their mind on a whim or chance meeting. Um. Wait, I didn't dream doing that. Nevermind! I'm awesome too. Just need to stop trying so hard and I'll be it. Anyway, I was going somewhere with that. Right, blogs, and travel tips pages that, while agreeing that Albania is charming and all, list all kinds of things that make traveling there challenging, with this slight implication that maybe you want to go somewhere else. Obviously not the hardcore backpacker sites! But like, sites for the average tourist who will balk at the idea of coach lines having no set schedules, etc. Oh, the horror and inconvenience! On the other hand, I'm sure I could find people whining that too many wannabes go to Albania these days and Tirana is the new whatever's the most recent place mundie tourists have defiled. (It hasn't been Prague for over a decade, has it? But you know what I mean. And I shouldn't say that in that tone--pot, kettle, black.)
Booked tickets on the ship to Stockholm today. I admit there was a point where I wasn't super excited about the Panic(!) show but I'm getting there again, and anyway, a mother-effing rock show and I'll get to hang out with turnyourankle (lovebashed, you're definitely not coming, then?) and guys, Monia works at the venue, if that doesn't offer first-class stakeout opportunities, then nothing does. Though, even with my Panic(!) love waned and me not being in danger of making a complete idiot of myself, I still have no idea what I'd say to them should I run into them somewhere. Everyone else in bandom has been easy! (Let's not think about my embarrassing high-pitched squeaking out of "Joe!" and then drawing a blank; Joe Troh surprised me, is all.)
I'm supposed to go to the Commie's for the weekend. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. Almost four days cooped up in the back of beyond, just the two of us? I love her to bits but she can kind of be a handful. I have no such qualms about our trip, because there'll be places and people; but Pori, yes. Yeah, well, I can always get a bus ticket if it gets too overwhelming--she won't mind, and I really like that about her.
Earlier I was reading my favorite Noel & Julian articles and listening to Train in Vain on repeat. And kind of maybe telling the ceiling how the world doesn't even have the Julian to my Noel, woe! Except of course I'm kind of more like Julian. A Julian-Russell hybrid. On the inside. With a wide streak of my very own crazy.
What the hell is this entry even about? I'm like, just enough drunk or drugged that I suspect I am, but, like, drunk enough that I'm not sure my judgment isn't impaired and I'm actually not as drunk as I think I am, which I'm pretty sure is a paradox.
Awesomely vivid flashback to watching storm warnings on the TV at scatterheart's aunt's in November. Whoa. Out of nowhere.
eta OMGWTF<3 fic summary: "Dave Brown and Russell Brand, eating some pastry goods and discussing how whore-y all the others are." DISCUSS.
Also, another discussion point: why does Noel's Mike-imitation voice sound pretty much exactly like the Moon?
Also, dear Paul King: hookah =/= hooker. Plz to fix your pronunciation accordingly.
So, Albania! I'm falling more and more in love (and slight trepidation) with the idea. Try googling for Tirana, you get the blogs of people who travel like I pretend to travel when I meet them along the way. People who have these crazy vague itineraries and who change their mind on a whim or chance meeting. Um. Wait, I didn't dream doing that. Nevermind! I'm awesome too. Just need to stop trying so hard and I'll be it. Anyway, I was going somewhere with that. Right, blogs, and travel tips pages that, while agreeing that Albania is charming and all, list all kinds of things that make traveling there challenging, with this slight implication that maybe you want to go somewhere else. Obviously not the hardcore backpacker sites! But like, sites for the average tourist who will balk at the idea of coach lines having no set schedules, etc. Oh, the horror and inconvenience! On the other hand, I'm sure I could find people whining that too many wannabes go to Albania these days and Tirana is the new whatever's the most recent place mundie tourists have defiled. (It hasn't been Prague for over a decade, has it? But you know what I mean. And I shouldn't say that in that tone--pot, kettle, black.)
Booked tickets on the ship to Stockholm today. I admit there was a point where I wasn't super excited about the Panic(!) show but I'm getting there again, and anyway, a mother-effing rock show and I'll get to hang out with turnyourankle (lovebashed, you're definitely not coming, then?) and guys, Monia works at the venue, if that doesn't offer first-class stakeout opportunities, then nothing does. Though, even with my Panic(!) love waned and me not being in danger of making a complete idiot of myself, I still have no idea what I'd say to them should I run into them somewhere. Everyone else in bandom has been easy! (Let's not think about my embarrassing high-pitched squeaking out of "Joe!" and then drawing a blank; Joe Troh surprised me, is all.)
I'm supposed to go to the Commie's for the weekend. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. Almost four days cooped up in the back of beyond, just the two of us? I love her to bits but she can kind of be a handful. I have no such qualms about our trip, because there'll be places and people; but Pori, yes. Yeah, well, I can always get a bus ticket if it gets too overwhelming--she won't mind, and I really like that about her.
Earlier I was reading my favorite Noel & Julian articles and listening to Train in Vain on repeat. And kind of maybe telling the ceiling how the world doesn't even have the Julian to my Noel, woe! Except of course I'm kind of more like Julian. A Julian-Russell hybrid. On the inside. With a wide streak of my very own crazy.
What the hell is this entry even about? I'm like, just enough drunk or drugged that I suspect I am, but, like, drunk enough that I'm not sure my judgment isn't impaired and I'm actually not as drunk as I think I am, which I'm pretty sure is a paradox.
Awesomely vivid flashback to watching storm warnings on the TV at scatterheart's aunt's in November. Whoa. Out of nowhere.
eta OMGWTF<3 fic summary: "Dave Brown and Russell Brand, eating some pastry goods and discussing how whore-y all the others are." DISCUSS.
Also, another discussion point: why does Noel's Mike-imitation voice sound pretty much exactly like the Moon?
Also, dear Paul King: hookah =/= hooker. Plz to fix your pronunciation accordingly.