Dear Maud, I've got this burning desire to explode across the sky...
I've not updated in a while, apart from my rather cryptic post a week ago, and this is because I've been Busy. For a start, there was the wonder that was sebastienne's party. This was a lovely evening of beautiful costumes with beautiful people (nominally and in some cases briefly) in them. However, an hour or so in, I thought it would be a fantastic idea (I'm convinced I was egged on by anariel_di_gaia, but my recollection is not exactly reliable) to drink drinks made of port and whiskey. To drink drinks made entirely out of port and whiskey. Nay, to down drinks made entirely of port and whiskey.
This was exceedingly fucking stupid.
I remember crashing about shouting something along the lines of "I am the MASTER of drink! George Eliot is a Disgrace to the Revolution!", and then I remember feeling a bit ill. I continued to "feel a bit ill" into ALL the sinks for several hours, and only survived due to the tender ministrations of steerpikelet, who tolerated not only copious amounts of vomit, but also my drunken autocritique. For which she deserves Deification.
I am such a fucking first-year.
At about this point, she very sensibly put me to bed. At ten o'clock at night.
Never.Again.
Also, throughout this ordeal I was dressed as Jareth, the Goblin King.
-this in an attempt to rescue my image as a suave and charming individual of great personal attractiveness [insert hollow laughter here].
The rest of the week, a blur. A BLUR, I tell you.
I do, however, remember the A< href="http://jacinthsong.livejournal.com/213137.html">Terrible Night of the Trolley.. The Great Ride is fairly well documented, but the Daring Theft as a little more mysterious. UNTIL NOW.
Basically, when leaving the wonderful potatofiend's dwelling, we came across a smallish shopping trolley, and decided to Pilfer it. However, potatofiend lives at St Hilda's, which is surrounded by a ten-foot wall, spikey gates, and very vigilant porters (you have to walk right through the lodge to get in or out). So I, being filled with sugar, e-numbers and gin, hopped up on top of the wall and walked along to the gate. The plan being to carry the thing over the top of the gate and then pass it down. Which we managed to do, no thanks to foulds, who helped out by calling out inspirational slogans like "We're going to get caught!", "You're going to die!", and, that old favourite, "I had a friend who tried something like this and all his guts got pulled out!". Nevertheless, we transported slasheuse home in her Chariot of Delight, causing only minor injuries to her person, and then decided to leave the trolley in the middle of Oriel Front Quad. However, even the resounding "Cthulhu Fthagn!" which I uttered as I fled was not enough to get us in the student papers.
I did meet Alan Moore, though, and was, sadly, completely, embarrassingly speechless. But I have a signed copy of Voice of the Fire, so All is Right With the World.
And I finished the Album That Ate The Last Two Years as well, of which I am inordinately proud, not least because of this. And the next one's going to be called "Mister Atomy's Blues Hypothesis".
Finally, I have a Palatial Cave of Debauch, called by mere mortals a "new room". As you well know, I have been living in a selection of shoeboxes for the last few weeks. However, when told to move back in, my roommate approached me and asked if I'd like to swap rooms ith a friend of his (they are having sex). And I had a look. And it's enormous and it has a shower and bog right next to it and it has a kitchen and it's WARM. So I moved in, and set up my masks, guitars, chains and computer. (I also found a small bottle of KY lube in the top drawer of the desk, and the previous inhabitant has yet to turn up to pick up his clothes. They are having SEX. And are very cute togther)
And it's the Masquerade soon! But I have no tail-coat! Hoping for a fairy gods-person to do the whole "you SHALL go to the ball!" shtick, because I am Lazy and must make masks for jacinthsong.