Day 346: Egg

Smoothness in things today. Grateful for that. Very. And for the fact that tomorrow, I'm going to do this big old workshop and it will be something special. Grateful for that, to 'things' and to my mum, who's helped me be able to do that, quite significantly.

Today was the first day of my new alarm sound. It will tire, but today, it delighted me no end to hear the scary-film-music start of Simon Says, followed by some nice bold notes and the words 'Get the fuck up!'. It wasn't designed to be an alarm ringtone, no, but it is very pleasing as one (for now). I can imagine a humourless morning where I have no patience with myself for ever having found that amusing. Or forgetting when I have 'company' and it falling a little flat. However, this morning I was blissfully dozy, alone and highly entertained. I declined the gentleman's invitation to the girls, in the next verse to 'rub on your titties', but I was appreciative of his tone.

Good egg

My housemates are really sweet eggs. That's a good thing to be grateful for. I like them. They are a rare pleasure - so the right way to be. I hardly see them, but when I do it's a delight. Good stuff.

Witch swim this morning. An invitation from a halloween-loving lady to come wearing a witch's hat and swim. I done better (in my world) and brought my hideous rubber half mask. Then I scared the shit out of a lot of people in it, persuaded a child to try it on (she was reluctant, but after her mum had tried it, she had a go and posed for a brilliant photo in it). And I swam in it. Coming up the steps felt like being in a film. I was, as always, a little bit tempted to keep it on, whack on the bike helmet and ride home. Limits my peripheral vision, though. However funny, that just won't do on a bike on the road. The swim was lovely. Mel and Gen were very sweet. There was a general high-pitchedness to the whole event and quite a lot of squealing, but it was hugely good-natured and lots of fun. 

Good egg

I had an invitation to a casting today and I can do the date. That's good, isn't it? I think so. And there were two very good dogs on the train. There's not much more than you can ask, really, especially tho on the 'getting wet' front. We'll see

Unforgivably bad egg

It's been a pretty happy evening at my mum's house, having dinner, playing tabletennis (I LOVE it), then a little bit of cello. I've forgotten so much, but I managed to make some sounds a bit like the start of Bach's Suite 1 for solo cello. I brought it with me on photocopy. I got lost when I had to read the music a bit more properly and i could feel my hands tense, but it was lovely to be able to make some music. And it's a huge and happy thing that the evening can be so relaxed. That... Now that... that's really pretty good.

Day 345: Throw Your Hands In The Air

345 - check it out!

Typing 345 was strangely satisfying. I do say I'm easily pleased and it really is true, isn't it? 

This morning I was pleased simply by the capacity to rock up to open up the Hub after my swim without being obscenely late. That was enough. That and the water, of course. 

Gasp reflex, apparently.

We're back. We're back to water that robs you of your breath and makes you know with every cell that you're real. We're back to switching off the bit of your head that says 'What The Fuck?' as you take off your clothes and walk out, in a swimming costume still damp from the day before, across concrete, to a set of rope-handled steps to walk down into water colder than is sensible. And do you know what? I fucking love that we're back. My body loves it and my mind does too. It takes me back down to the cells that make me. It brings me into the water and back to the earth. It grounds me.

Check out the Dweck. She has shit to say about changing your mind.
http://www.aaronsw.com/weblog/dweck
The reason I liked this is because, despite lots of playing with failure and lots of doing scary things and lots and lots of trying, there are still things I'm definitely holding onto as far as my identity is concerned... and not all useful bits. I regularly laugh in my own face, now, as I tell myself I'm 'just not the type' that has long-term relationships, or that 'I'm a born addict/procrastinator/twat' - I'm massively attached to the twat bit, if I'm honest. I'd like to stop the other two. Twat's probably the money shot, then, isn't it. That's the one I need to let go of. 

Hippy dippy happy shit

One way I know that is how irate I get inside when I hear it in the mouths of others. 'I always .... (insert bullshit)'. 'I'm not the kind of person who ever... (flap, flap, flap)'. 'Ha! Typical me!' It's not a reason, it's an excuse. And if I never did that myself, why would it tug at my belly in that dull way that nags? I had a mole removed with local anaesthetic one time. That kind of tugging - you can feel shit going on and things being vaguely manhandled, but it's just sensation - not actual pain. That's what it feels like, only I get kind of mad as well - mad at how people limit themselves (how dare they?) and how they fail to realise their own potential for the sake of a faux-comfortable concept of who they think they are (the cheek!). 

Yeah, if I was out of that, I'm sure I'd feel a wave of warmth and love and I'd just flow on through. Nope. Not there yet. Still sitting on my potential like some sacred egg, scared to get off in case the fucking thing hatches on my ass and bleeds out alien babies that are going to suck the life out of me through my face or something. Surely doing what you love can't be THAT painful!

I just did what I love. I just ran an impro session that I thought was not going to happen. I ached in my belly, feeling bad that I hadn't advertised it enough and, if I'm honest, hoping it wouldn't go ahead. Chickenshit! I'd even suggested to someone who was going to come that the trip from Herne Hill might be too far for a class that was blatantly going to be cancelled. Sorry. So, just after 7, possibly just before, the person I got talking to on the train to Southend last Sunday turned up (Greek/German). We chatted for a good ten minutes before the buzzer went again and a French guy turned up, not even sure where he heard about it from. Then a Spanish guy showed up. It wasn't until he already had a cup of tea that he realised he was at the wrong session. The session he wanted to attend, about social enterprise and its potential effect on the Spanish economy, IS at Hub Islington... in TWO WEEKS' TIME. That's a fabulous mistake to make. 

Could you do it on here?

So anyway, he stayed. We played. We started so late and it was such a small group that I didn't charge them. It was really, really good, though. It's amazing what you can achieve in that kind of short period of time when people are open and willing and up for a fail. They were all new and one wasn't even supposed to be there! We did lots of lovely things. We laughed. We each found different things challenging and others easy. 

These gentlemen were all delightful and I was very glad to have them there. It rocked! That's what I love - and yet I was scared of it and hesitant. Maybe, like this guy says (http://www.aaronsw.com/weblog/dalio  - and I've mentioned this article before), we need to 'lean into' the things that give us pain when we even think about them and get really good at them. KEEP ON doing things that scare you. Keep biting off more than anyone can chew. Keep celebrating failure (as says Dweck, part of the same series). Keep on fucking up and throwing our hands in the air with glee rather than exasperation... I knew this would be meaty. What more can we get out of it?

I loved that someone told me that they liked that when I fuck up, I jump up in the air with my eyes closed and my fist raised, cheering 'like a little kid'. That made me very happy. It's true. I do it automatically now. Might try that when I write stuff I don't like. Could be a key.

Not hotel sex. AND repeat image. Still funny.

Lovely chat with lovely Dan who lives in my house. I hardly ever see him, but he's always a delight when I do. He told me I should have his room, if I can't sleep in mine. That's massively generous and possibly a bit mental. He bigged it up by saying it's really quiet and you see people having sex all the time. There's a hotel behind us. Apparently, he sees different people doing that daily. That's funny, isn't it? I'm sold! 

Day 344: Fuck Off To Asia

This was under '365 days'. Amazing!

It's not, is it? That's the thing. It's not Day 344 at all. It's probably, almost to the day, about Day 365. I'd have to look somewhat more carefully to be sure about that. It's all very easy. Nope - I'm  13 days out. I started on October 15th and it's now 28th. Can't stop before a full year of actual posting, though, so I press on. Miss it though I may, on occasion, I still love it.

Days have passed. Moods and joys and other things have passed too. Two flat tyre-fixings (the first not that good, evidently - the second followed less than a day later). As I fixed the first, outside the Odeon Cinema in Holloway (thank you, by the way, for a fully intact and unrummaged bike and bags when I went back two days later than the puncture) an older man trundled up and locked his bike to the same railings, having sustained a puncture on the way to the Arsenal match. He didn't need kit. He didn't have time and lived quite close. He despaired that his kids (now adult) just take their bikes into the shop when they get a puncture. I have to admit that this time it crossed my mind, but I can't bring myself to. I CAN fix a puncture - I just don't like to. 

I located the massive bit of glass in the tyre and took it out, making note of where it sat compared to the valve. When I got the tyre off, though, and the inner tube out, I couldn't find the puncture. Said gentleman held the gently inflated inner tube up to his face until he felt the breeze. Very sweet. 

I done some yoga. There was a cat. An 'oriental'. Skinny, ginger, demanding. Beautiful creature. Shouty like a Siamese. I liked her. Yoga was pretty good too, though I really do need a straightening out (not a euphemisim). 

A 'not guilty' plea. Ah well. On to the next stage then. I'll have a toasted teacake before the trial and all will be well. And I know good things will come of this. Things always do. On Friday, a sweet stranger (friend of a friend) asked about the blog. There seemed to be an almost accusatory glimmer in his eye when he asked if I ever criticised. Yes, of course I do! And at the same time, I believe (did I believe this before the blog?) that things worthy of gratitude happen in pretty much every situation, even when it's shit. 

I agree that it's a way of thinking, sometimes of bending thinking, and why not? If the associations are both honest and useful, where's the harm? If they're a lie (and sometimes I WANT to feel grateful and I just don't), then they either don't go in or they go in and are immediately exposed as a lie by me, as I realise it. I met nice people that evening. Most of them quite young and very bright. Many of them quite funny too. Spaced? Yes, but from a different angle. What would Daisy do? All that. She'd fuck of to Asia, that's what she'd do. Maybe that. 

Day 343: Falling, Falling.

I love the autumn. It's a whole gift. It makes me happy, in its colours, in its smells, quite simply in its nature. 

I've been sad at times today, even with the leaves and smells and wind and lifting, but I've been so hugely blessed too. The sadness is okay and entirely appropriate (or so I like to think) and probably caused by a bit of a mixed pie of things. And the blessings come from everywhere.

I've been given patience, in running and in listening, and facts. Lots of facts. I've been shown a shirt that looks like a penis. I've laughed. I've received wise words and openness from yet another friend. 

And poetry - that was given to me this evening by Sharon Olds, a white-haired magician, gifted at capturing a moment in its tiniest intimacy. Stag's Leap. To be wholeheartedly recommended. A beautiful, heartbreaking, joyful and honest painting of the end of a relationship and her life beyond it. Huge. She was gentle in her face and with her words and the questions she took were poetry too, or her answers were. I'm very glad I went to see her and I'm very glad indeed that she does what she does. Inspiration, then, another of today's gifts. 

I've received a pouring out of information through the absence of words from someone. Whether the information I'm gathering is accurate, though, is dubious. I think already perhaps I took information from something that wasn't intended. Still... I'm not sure what this silence says. If I listened to my own advice, I'd say 'Whatever you've assumed, the only assumption you can safely make is that you've probably assumed wrong.'. Okay. Let's go with that. Let's wait and see.

There have been a few end-of-the-lines today. My bike, by Holloway Road. Back tyre fucked. Probably the wheel too, as it took me a while to notice what was wrong. Then the bus I got on stopped. I sat on it, lost in thoughts, until the irritated driver came and told me that 'this bus terminates here'. After that, I heard the 'all change please' lady's voice which had been insisting on the point for quite a while.  I fussed for a moment about whether I'd have to pay again to get another, more crowded, bus, but then I walked, which cleared my head and made me breathe all differently. 

Tomorrow, there'll be a choosing what to say - guilty or not guilty. That will decree only what has to happen next. It won't have any bearing on what's true. I hope for the simplest of outcomes. There's a part of me that feels bad for putting people to all this trouble. Now I understand that I am not in a position influence this any more than I am to force talk or change how someone feels. It's just so. That in itself's a gift.

I've had cold water all around me, cloudy landscapes, clarity and buffetting. I've had salad and paté and laughter. I've had work in - small amounts, but very pleasing, and from two different countries, neither of them here. I've had a lovely walk up from Highgate - one of the joys of having no bike for a day or two - and I've come home safe to a room with a bed in, a door I can lock, a big, warm quilt and even lavender oil, valerian and a wheat bag. That's good, isn't it? I can only say it is. 

Today, tomorrow, even, there will be some autumning of things that need to fall. The timing's perfect. The scene is set. Bring it on. 

Day 342: Get The Fuck Up

Ha... my head is not as flowy and full first thing. It'll have to be trained to be. Not that I can complain. Good things afoot, both in the future and in the recent past. Last night's gig was kicking (http://excurs.io/excursions-23-october-2012) - next one 27th November. In my calendar already. 

I particularly loved the medley, which included songs I don't know, songs I do, but don't know the names of and the amazing Simon Says, done with panache and playfulness. The band were on fire all night. There were lots of freestylers, some of them more spoken word poets than rappers as such. Particularly in the case of Tat Yin, the band were like an organism - like the borg to his mind. He was good. With them, his stuff came alive. They breathed with him, did a dance of leading and following. I made you ache to watch it. It was fantastic. 

Same with the young female rapper (Dreamer?). She was very quiet, but very good. The band adapted to all of it, keeping just beneath her so her vocals were still the star, and leading her to up the volume/energy a little bit at times. Beautiful stuff. As always, the drummer was an art installation personified. Watching him exist in his flow is a whole night out in itself. He watches - he's like a sponge, or like hippy crystal healers would say crystals are. He's the megaphone. He drinks in what's going on and amplifies it. He is so focused, listening, and the music is in his body. He does a lot of whole body enjoyment and his mouth is always moving. Love watching Rob lead the band too. Proper playing going on... enjoying playing as well as doing it well musically playing. When the percussionist played, she looked terribly serious, but possibly like a cat with that kind of markings. Concentration face? She grinned when Dave said he'd sleep with the band, though - which made me smile. I like his onstageness. It says ease. 

This guy rocked

Nice times had all through with the boy. Shame it was tricky for him. I can't have any effect on that, though, so there's no benefit in my fretting. 

Well done me, then, for my current fail. No, I didn't have an early night and no, I haven't done other writing. No, I"m not up early really. I have done a bit of work already, though, and I'm awake. And I watched this: 
http://www.ted.com/talks/john_maeda_how_art_technology_and_design_inform_creative_leaders.html

And I've blogged. There, it's done. Blog, in yer face. Get in!

Day 341: Transition Post

Well meta

I love Blogger - it's great. When you get fewer page visits (which is blatantly happening now I'm not posting my blog on Facebook), it changes the scale, so it still looks like lots of people are reading. Must be a motivational thing. It works on me. I'm happy to be simple like that, though. 

It's a transition blog, because I'm moving from late night blogging to early morning, in an attempt to get more/better sleep (not 'more better sleep' - that'd be grammatically wrong and we know how I feel about that, innit). And to write non-blog stuff too. NaNoWriMo is imminent. Will I deliver?

A Betty's Fat Rascal

It's kind of a big day, only not. Full of decisions and practicalities that may or may not mean something in the future. A chat with a nice lady from West Yorkshire Police. If there's going to be some crime, may it please be there. Speak to the Police and everything seems fixable with a cup of tea and a toasted teacake, or at a push, a massive scone from Betty's. 

Foggy pond action

Thanks to lovely Pond Mel, I partook of the pond this morning when otherwise, I may have lain in bed for many hours. We arranged to meet, then she bailed out after a late night, but crucially, not until just before we were due to meet. Perfect! No opportunity for me to do a wobbly. I was already there, in running gear, ready to run/swim. 

Soo.... I did my 'run', which involved jogging to the bottom of the first hill and about halfway up it, then walking/running a bit, having a sit-down and a stretch at the closed cafe kiosk, walking a bit further, breaking into the lamest jog anyone's ever seen and then grinning and accepting that I just wasn't going to run. I went up to the stand where you can look out over London, just to the left of Kenwood House. You couldn't even see as far as the end of the field. It was beautiful, though. Very atmospheric. I liked it. 

Tree fog

I tried a little run downhill after that. Nope - still couldn't be bothered. The only running I did do was from the bottom of that same hill, back up it. As I walked down, a man appeared from the bushes. I waited for his dog. Didn't appear. He was much bigger than me and looked strong. He had a plastic bag in his left hand and he put his right into his coat pocket. He walked slowly. He was probably having a think, enjoying the fog, taking a walk as is his right, even if he doesn't have a dog. 

I 'SO' looked nothing like this

My belly twinged, though. There were no people around, lots of bushes and lots of fog. So, thank you, man going for a walk. I turned and ran up that hill. I got about three quarters of the way this time, quite fast. Thanks, adrenalin. I'm sorry it's the way things are that a big bloke going for a walk on his own can trigger such behaviour from strangers, without him doing anything wrong. I'm also at one with my decision. Felt like the right thing to do. I'll never know whether or not it was. So let's just decide. Well done. Good decision. Carry on.

Day 340(ish): Lax, but not Lost

Biblical

Not through want of good and lovely occurrences, I've failed to blog for two whole days. Here I am again. I've been smiling a lot and having a nice time. I've spent time with lovely people, people who've surprised me and taken my breath away, and people who make me laugh. I've hung out with eggs so good, their shells are all golden. How lucky am I?

Westcliff

I loved laughing with Ruth as she described the morning's sermon at the church. She was almost crying, she was laughing so hard as she told the story of this AWFUL parable about a king doing away with a whole town because they didn't want to come to his wedding and then when he finally did manage to shanghai some people in, he cast someone out to where there was wailing and gnashing of teeth for not wearing suitable wedding garb. The message was 'many are called but few are chosen'. Ruth was appalled (I want to write incensed but it makes my mind all joss-sticky). It was such a pleasure to be told the story, and to hear how she challenged it with the vicar (or priest, or whatever it was). It reminded me of the massive giggle fits Ruth and I had on Bardsey, reading out lists of numbers. That was all. We nearly weed. And sitting opposite master of 'sick in my mouth', Jack Rebaldi, in a Parisian cafe, with him just doing that and both of us losing it, big time. 

Rumours

Sunday's Johnfest was just delightful and this evening's bonus go on Victoria Sandison was very fine indeed. Thanks for the lovely teapot and the mental hat, oh Tiny Pikey. The masks will look great in it. Perfect for covering up edges. Good Robbing too. Anna Levy pleased me. Luke told me to fuck off. Life is good. 

A Breaded Cat

Thanks for the gentleness of silky water and for the experience - so far at least - that the rumours about crayfish-based toe-biting in the pond is so far pure twaddle. There's been some exciting fog action. I rode home through clouds this evening. And thanks for lovely messages to and fro which are pleasing me greatly. Looking forward to Excursions tomorrow, whatever it turns out to be. 

Day 339: Thank You, Facebook

Like this, only not as dramatic.

After months of having this in my menu bar, I finally read it. Much of this is because I wasn't religiously scouting for updates on Fuckbook. Thank you.

http://www.aaronsw.com/weblog/dalio

Tomorrow, nothing at all to do with this article, I face my fears. Some of them, anyway. Or at least, I'm going to a place and doing a thing that will bring them there to be looked at. Tomorrow, I will stretch, as they love to say, my comfort zone. Maybe I'll come out a new woman. Either way, I'm sure I'll make a discovery or two. 

Today, I get to play with Emily and Kate and see my beloved Pudding do her thing on stage. That's good, isn't it? Oh, and I'll do a little bit of work, when I get my lazy (but currently quite firm, thanks to Archway Road and Muswell Hill Road) arse in gear. 

Oh, and my light bulb just set fire to the fitting. Eeeee! So much for daylight bulbage! Thank god for fuses.

Day 338: Through The Leaves

I'm not sure why, but this delighted me this morning:

Dear Judy Claybourne,

We are pleased to offer you 10% discount on all Halloween Party Supplies

Simply enter this Coupon Code in your shopping cart.

HALW10%2012

Valid until 31 Oct 2012

It came with a logo (with witches, obvs). There's something so perfunctory about it. And the cut-off date is poetry. Not sure why, but it reminds me of getting a text from the GUM clinic that says 'ur tests are clear'. Or even 'Your tests are clear'. It's still such a weird match. Better, I suppose, than 'u better get down here, ur riddled w stds lol'. But still.

There will be a "Halloween Swim" on 31st. It seems a little bit incongruous, but so good too. That explains the two ladies with witches' hats I took photos of a few days ago. They were posing for a poster, it seems. This morning, I saw a beefy man in his thirties or forties riding up Merton Lane (the hill coming from the pond) on his bike with a full-face nylon Spiderman mask on. Not smiling or anything. Looking pretty pissed off, if I had to say. It made me guffaw, it did.

I just had the most tasty of workshops. It was ace. Public Speaking Ninja. Someone earlier said (gently, loadedly) "Do you think that 'ninja' is the right word to describe it?'. I don't care if it's not (I said, less gently, but with an honest smile). Thing is, that comment really helped. Yes, ninjas are known for stealth, but they're also known for being invincible. So we 'covered that off' early in the workshop, and the invincibility idea really fed the session.

I loved it. I was small-minded and tight before. I wasn't keen... not about the work - about the vibe. And then people started to turn up. We had a small group, but it was good. And after such sessions, I'm always so high. Today's wasn't the best organised session I've ever done, but I think everyone in the room got something concrete and useful out of it, especially me. Two stayed back for a bit of an extra play and I'm really glad we did that. I was concerned that one of the people hadn't yet quite found her 'unlocker' and she really wanted to, so with that, we played a little longer and heard a voice I hadn't even had a taste of before. Amazing. 

 

Lovely chumpfest at the Tate Modern earlier, if a little brief. A pair of chumps, chumping. Here's to more of that! Cheers.

Day 337: Full to Bursting

I watched this today. Thanks, Grundel. 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=AIXUgtNC4Kc
Apart from the massively gross bit in the middle, I loved it. It makes me dizzy/giddy, but it's ace. 

Today (GET ME!) I cycled to the pond, went for a run with lovely South African Mel, swam in the cold pond (11.5) and then went back for a monster porridge breakfast before going to Islington.

Hyde Park for a delightful meeting with Philip. A good connection (thanks, Doug). I'm not sure yet what we'll work on together, but there's masses of potential and he was a throroughly nice man with some really good ideas. Thanks for the Jester idea, Philip. Your stories made that happen and I love it. 

A chat with Rob from the bowels of Waterstones in Gower Street filled me with glee and the same goes for a meaty Lilleysnip earlier in the day. Such. Good. People.

Then up to St Pancras to meet potential new coach Corrina. Yes. She seems sorted, intelligent, skillful and clear and enough of a ball-breaker to cut through bullshit and get on with what needs to be done. Count me in. Thank you, Clare. If there were any more ways you could rock, you just did it again.

Finally, more work on my pet project, which was subsequently pulled. Ah well. The work we did do on it was BRILLIANT. Worth it even if we didn't get paid for it (but we will). It's great. And I got to talk to Vic. Result!

Yesterday, she said a thing that delighted me. She said that she can say that I love what I do. I left my job to spend more time doing what I love. Yesterday, the conference I was part of used the 'Do what you love, love what you do' slogan. Last night Vic said that and today, Corrina and I discussed it. That's why I left a job I still really enjoyed. There was a period where I realised that I was settling for what I thought I had to do to get money and I was spending a lot of my time doing work that didn't stimulate me even as much as Hasbro did. Now, I spend huge amounts of my time doing things I love. It's rare that I do a job that I don't enjoy. I love it. For this, I am grateful like you just wouldn't believe. So much. So much. 

Day 336: goodtimesgoodtimes

Wheeeeeeeee! 

EarlystartbusinthedarklightbythetimeIreachedWaterloonicepeoplefunonthetraingoodjobmorenice(French)peoplescaredthenhappythenengagedbackonthetrainwithlunchinabagchattingotyogateacherJeremytextsfromlovelypeopleoneinparticularverynicespecialvisittotheBritishLibraryeveninglaughingwithlovelyVictoriaSandisonbackupthehilltalkingtoaladywiththebiggestRottweilerintheworldsmellyhandsbuthappychatwithhousemadeaboutGodandhealingdonesomemoreworksentitoffdonehairsmellsofhennawillmypillowbeokay?

And I'm spent. 

Day 335: Bereft or Blessed?

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That's good news, isn't it. I'm so very not sure what to do with my blog once I've done it now, but I shall do it and find out, shan't I?

A full day. Thank you for cold, silky, leafy water and for getting up in time to enjoy it; for little pockets of gifty sunlight landing on corners of the pond and lighting them up; for clouds lit up all yellow and patches of blue in a pattern of heavy skies. 

Thanks for the extra exercise and faith in fairness (or just not noticing). I swam, I smiled (a lot), buoyed by cold water and warm exchanges of many kinds. I was so full of things that needed doing today that I rushed off down to Angel to go to the Hub. Got almost, almost there and realised how free I felt. No backpack. No laptop. Oops. Less panic than when I left it in Burger King in Angel... no panic at all, actually. I did have a long ride back up there (long and pretty) then a pop in to pick it up and a long-ish ride back. Good exercise. Makes up for the fact that this evening, I've left my bike where it is.

Great session with Dave and Rob and a new company. We're really doing this. Effectively, there was a bit of brand identity work we did, communication, freeing up, playing. Great stuff. First time we've all worked together. I think we did well. It was good. We always learn from things. Perhaps I interject too much. Perhaps my 'right' and 'wrong' get in the way... and perhaps the energy's good and people feel safe too, and perhaps that's a fucking good go for a first job together. Brilliant. 

ANOTHER go on Sandison, on the phone this time, to sort out work. 'Work'. Things we are going to do for money that don't at all feel like work. Right now, it's 2 to midnight and i need to be fast asleep as soon as I humanly can. Bye, then. Thanks. Bye. 

Day 334: Ecocruz

Jochen takes amazing photos

Oh, it's like the olden days. I'm trying to finish this before midnight, so I can post it on Facebook and then be off before pumpkin time.

Thanks, Jochen Zaeschmar, for this lovely, peaceful comparison thingy. It's very cool indeed. It made me sigh out all sorts of things. Partly the music, partly the whimsicality and straightforwardness mixed and partly just 'oh - look at all those things bigger and smaller than me, and just the same'. Lovely. 

And has an amazing job

http://htwins.net/scale2/

Better call that man soon. And Clubba Hollenbaugh. I miss these people. Maybe FB dearth will help with that. We won't kind of feel like we know what's going on with each other unless we actually speak.

I had a very special go on Victoria Sandison today. She came up to Muswell Hill for a "work" call. I say that - it's blatantly for work, but with Beec, it's so very funny and there's so much laughter that it's hardly appropriate to call it work. 

Ecocruz, Bay of Islands. Brilliant thing to do.

Oh! Just remembered that I had an email from lovely Blagmeister King Prawn Nick yesterday. I must reply. He is a very favourite person, if distantly so. Full of passion and the liking of things. Playful and silly and a bit dangerous (in a landrover kind of way). Good man. 

Back to Beec. We skyped America (just a bit of it). We laughed. We agreed things. We ate chicken (only not together - hers on the bus, mine in my house). She's made me feel at home in my home. That's good, isn't it? And it's all a bonus, as she's going away soon. I get to play with her more, now we're doing this work. It's a happy-making thing.

Looking forward to a bit of Chump time next week, whether on an evening (depending on all kinds of worky things) or just at lunch. It's all good, though, isn't it. It is. 

Day 333: Life Is Good

How lucky am I?

Over the past few days, I've swum in the Men's pond, given blood, had a juicy call from France, received work from Cologne and LA, had two coaching clients (amazing!), been part of a very enjoyable 'Goatsong: The Improvised Greek Tragedy' show, which rocked my bones with pleasure, hung out with Ruth, then sweet and funny Emily Moon for a proper few hours and then hung out with some of her lovely friends too. 

I bumped into a friend from a past era and walked her dog with her across the Heath. I breaststroked my way through masses of leaves one day and gentle mist beneath blue skies the next. I've eaten three croissants (two plain, one almond) and I've laughed with any number of people, both known to me and not. I've had a go on countless brilliant dogs, from a MASSIVE protector belonging to a homeless man in Muswell Hill to a tiny ten-week chihuahua puppy no bigger than a baguette. I walked a (fairly long) path with a random lady and her two door-slam-faced Westies. I've received very lovely texts from lots of people too, and have enjoyed exchanging a string of pleasing messages with The Chump. 

So much more to come. This coming week is 'mental'. It really is. In the happiest of ways. 

I caught myself fretting earlier - I hadn't got up in very good time - and even though that was my actual plan, because I need to catch up and sleep longer, I still felt cross with myself. And I have a few tricky-ish decisions to make. And do you know what? It's all just fine. How good is my life right now? How very, very grateful am I? Fuck's sake! 

I'm grateful to have been reminded of that. Things are pretty good, really. Pretty excellent. I get to live this, and to remember that.

That's how lucky. 

Day 332: One Last Step

Fucking outstanding day. Really full and fabulous. Too tired to speak. 

Day 331: Chump

Proper chump

A pleasing evening with a proper chump. That's nice, isn't it? It was.

Hugs from Nikki, Anna and Rob Reason at The Hub. Great news about a job. Wheeeeee! Funny and brilliant at the same time. A new client. A new contact. A good meeting. An opportunity to pretend to be someone else pretending to be someone else. Result! Résultat ! C'est pas comme ça que ça se dit. Ha. He. Je. Good people all around. 

Too much coffee with said chump. A go on a dog for £1.20, kind of. The gentleman saw me eyeing his pooch and brought it straight over. A pro! See a sucker for the dog and in for the kill. Let me play a while, then asked for money. Fair game, really. That's what I gave him. We were all happier for the exchange. Even the dog. 

Bear chump

My quilt is up on the 'wall'. The noise is still pretty clear. Hmmm. Arse. Arse. Ninky Nonk. that came up. Oh dear, am I asleep? I suspect I am. 

PS: I'm leaving facebook soon. If you like the blog, even if it's just from time to time, get on and follow it. I think that means notifications about posts. Or you could just bookmark it. I love posting it on facebook. It holds me accountable - AND it eats time like an open packet of biscuits. Mindless eating, it is. Nom and again nom. Not in a good way.