A word on the subject of my journal title.

[apiphile]

Which has been, for quite a long time, "Slightly Embellished In The Process Of Adaptation: This Is All True Except For The Parts That Aren't". If ever anyone is foolhardy/weird enough to write a thing about me as a sort of book, a biography thing, that's what I'd want it called, too.

Here is something I underlined in The Raw Shark Texts by Steven

Comments

[miscellanny]

I'm sorry I stole your booze!

[apiphile]

and I. Also I'm pretty pleased with the end result so no, no apologies. :D

[arseaboutface]

Unrelated to this, but related to our Twitter conversation the other day: Talked to a friend of mine from college who's a sound engineer, and he says to shoot him an email: cmooreaudio at gmail dot com

[apiphile]

AEI hwpahvoalho assa I LOVE YOU WITH THE POWER OF A THOUSAND BURNING FIRE-ISH SUNS THANK YOUUUUU.

[arseaboutface]

:D Sure thing. I may not have much knowledge, but by God I know people who do.

[apiphile]

You have no fucking idea how helpful this iiiiiiiis. <3

anecdote

[myselftheliar]

It was a beautiful April day and I was in high school when my friend Quentin decided to surprise me by picking me up from school. I was in 10th grade and my last class was on the ground level, English, and had big windows facing the courtyard of the school. I sat in the back row, the seat closest to the windows. Somehow Quentin thought it was a great idea to CLIMB IN THROUGH THE WINDOW, COVER MY MOUTH WITH HIS HAND, AND DRAG ME OUT THE WINDOW while class was in session. He lay crouched by the window for who knows how long, the only tell-tale sign he was there-- his green mohawk bobbing awkwardly behind the bushes. I was paying attention in class, or doodling, I don't remember but I do know I was distracted enough I didn't see it coming. He climbed in through the window as silently as a snake covered in jingle bells-- he wore a LOT of chains, and clamped a hand over my mouth, taking me with him back outside

Re: anecdote

[apiphile]

THAT IS SERIOUSLY THE BEST STORY EVER. <3 GODDAMN QUENTIN, YOU WERE SO AWESOME. :(

An anecodote of drunkeness, arson and gypsy kings.

[minervasolo]

I'm apparently only capable of storing one anecdote in my mind at a time, but the current one's a goodun

Re: An anecodote of drunkeness, arson and gypsy kings.

[minervasolo]

That appears to be the last of it, though there is a brief coda: the pub held a new year's party, completely with band and buffet. During the evening, Sara goes to get the food from the kitchen store, and finds its been broken into. The meat is missing and the rest of the food as been spoiled. They suspect drunk guy and his family, but they have no proof, and the party was still enjoyed by all who attended. Two months have gone by and nothing else has happened, so it looks like being held up at gunpoint by the gypsy king had the required effect.

Re: An anecodote of drunkeness, arson and gypsy kings.

[apiphile]

Dude that is, I have to say, a blinder of an anecdote. I'm glad Sara and Chloe are okay, and rather impressed by the awesomeness of your local gypsy king & his general sense of chivalry.

Re: An anecodote of drunkeness, arson and gypsy kings.

[minervasolo]

He's quite protective of pubs he likes - he won't let any other gypsies drink in my parents' local, for example - though when there was a gypsy wedding in the local town they trashed all the pubs that closed for the occasion (the ones that stayed open were treated well, and made a mint, of course). The same tends to happen at the funerals. Not just the pubs, but all the shops and sometimes even the schools shut down when there's a gypsy wedding/funeral. Surrey has a huge gypsy population, and there's been some real Romeo and Juliet stuff with a romany girl and an irish gypsy boy falling in love and running off together, to the fury of both gypsy clans.

[apiphile]

He then spent the entire first day telling me about how much anonymous sex he had had with dudes in Brighton, which is oddly only entertaining for a small number of hours.

LOL EVERY FUCKING PARTY I HAVE BEEN TO IN BRIGHTON WAS JUST ENDLESS RECOUNTING OF DRAMAS I WASN'T INVOLVED IN AND DIDN'T CARE ABOUT AND PEOPLE MADE ME LISTEN TO THE BULLSHIT OR I WASN'T ALLOWED ANY DRUGS SO UNBEARABLY BORING.

Anyway, within an hour of arriving at the first bar, Noel promptly vanished, leaving me to the tender mercies of a chap named GERALD, a flamboyant Scottish man in his thirties, who was inexplicably a die-hard Tory and decided to tell me all about how Thatcher was great and we should shoot all Arabs.

*chinhands* Oh god please put him in a story because if you don't I'm going to.

When I eventually did get a word from him (along the lines of "lol im ok see you babe") I was so consumed with fury that I got the train home from Edinburgh at 7am, leaving him a POLITELY ANGRY NOTE.Oh good lord. Yes, I would probably have done something similar. And

[apiphile]

I HAVE DECIDED YOU HAVE TO TELL ME YOUR ENTIRE LIFE STORY IN THIS FORMAT. IT IS WAY MORE INTERESTING THAN MINE.