Old Remix of Mine

In the absence of any irritating formalities I might have missed, I am officially finished with school, forever! Now I just have to wait a bit for the school to check that everything is in order and award me my master's degree. Yay!

In other news, I have a new job. Instead of working with budgets and invoicing and graphic design I will start out as a regression monkey within health consulting. I get to play around in Stata and Excel all day and maybe publish some papers.

And if you have Spotify, I just found an old remix of mine there. Give it a listen.

Eggs

Ah, friends! Like watching the telly but you have to talk to them.

On another note, Weeds is still good. I am watching season four now and still not tired of it. Anxious to find out how the third season of Dexter ends. Want another season of Sons of Anarchy, great series.

Two eggs.

Angry, Bricked-in

I had sort of an Edgar Allan Poe moment. Recently, I found a rather unusual black cat ornament that my ex-girlfriend had given me at the local charity store to which I have given a lot of clothes and other stuff over the years. I remembered how I had been quite uncertain whether to donate that particular cat ornament or not, what with fond memories and yadda yadda. Anyway, seeing it again made me a bit sad and quite wistful, so I quickly left the story. This was a week or two ago. Today, I was up in the attic rummaging about... and found it there.

So, either there are two identical and very unusual cat ornaments within a very small area, or this is something like that angry, bricked-in cat of Poe fame.

The cat in the picture above, however, is doing just fine. I had to cut the hair in her armpits today, though, as it was turning into dreadlocks, and that is not particularly good for cats.

Invasion of the Gay Garden Gnomes

I was hanging out with this beast. Her favourite pastime is reaching high ground and screaming.


Also, WTF of the week. The gay garden gnomes. They had lesbian ones too, equally mind-bendingly ugly, as garden gnomes often are. I just got myself a little bonsai tree.


Yet we stay happy, content and well-nourished.


But some have been gazing for too long into the abyss.

Anyway.

It was just as I feared. Number9dream was one of those great books which begin to dissolve towards the end, like grains of kitty litter in the shower, or, er, not quite perhaps. Anyway. The book was great but it just sort of unravelled infuriatingly towards the end like a roll of kitchen paper falling down from the counter and exploring all of the floor.

However, Cloud Atlas by the same author, David Mitchell, is hitherto fantastic. If I had it in me to write books, one of them would have been something like this - the concept, not the particular environments and situations. I even had one loosely planned. Now I can spend my time some other way. No games right now though. Dawn of War - Soulstorm and Red Alert 3 were both big mehs. Meh.