songofcopper: (Peter Wyngarde as Number Two)
Golly gee, I’m a tired little Diurnal Introvert today. Last evening, I Attended An Event and Made Conversation With Humans, most of whom I did not know hitherto. I’m pretty sure I Spoketh the Rubbish (well, yeah, so what is new?!). But it is better to be silly than dull. This type of experience does tend to fill the brain with Notions, which then kept me awake and analysing way past Emy-sleepsleep-time. And of course, this morning, I awoke with the birds, as usual. In short: *feeble moaning sound* *smiling, however* ;-)

Observations: Municipal library seating is harsh on the posterior. The English really cannot help but congregate around a tea urn (seriously, a circle formed around the sainted thing, as if ’twere an holy well, with occasional reverent reachings into the sacred biscuit tin).

The event in q. was a film showing with introductory remarks (the idea shall be to establish a film club: you may choose a film to be shown, but you must say a little something about it first). Last evening’s selection: none other than ‘Flash Gordon’. Ideal fare for a drizzly evening in January. Leaving the place afterwards, the dinginess of Exeter after dark made for a depressing contrast with the powerfully outrageous world of the film. Regarding the introductory remarks - well, the gauntlet was well and truly flourished ’n’ thrown down by a knowledgeable and eloquent fellow… which awakes the spirit of challenge in Yrs Trly. I like a podium, me (much more than awkward chat around a tea urn!). And am an ignorant fellow, but perhaps also eloquent under some circumstances? …We’ll see.

Well, whatever, if nothing else I now have ample wardrobe inspiration for whenever I do get around to taking over the galaxy. As dictators go I’d be fairly lax ’n’ lenient, but definitely Fabudorable.

Further observations: to be sober in an only-just-slightly-inebriated world is most certainly surreal. I had a long wait for the bus home, so I walked right up to the centre of town and further still (to kill time) before stopping to await my carriage. Outside Subway, I witnessed one young man cheerfully chasing another whilst shouting, “Yer a Corgi! Yer a Corgi!” If this is current slang, I have no idea what it means (perhaps “You have short legs, large ears, and I think you’re cute”?).

And now: time to rest. (In the absence of an intergalactic-dormobile-foldaway-person-holder as favoured by General Klytus, a humble sofa shall suffice!)

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songofcopper

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This journal is not a private diary, it is more like an occasional, imaginary column. Therefore, much of it is on public display. However, if you want to read my occasional attempts at creative writing, my Caution Elf tells me I should only show that stuff to my friends. You know what to do. :-)

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