Well, I promised an updatewhenever I sit down to write something in here my mind goes completely blank like yknow when someone asks you what youve been up to, and you say Ah, yknow, work, not much, though you couldve been ice-skating on the moon or something. Maybe Im the only one who does that. Hrm.
Anyhoo, Johnny Cash Night was (thank fuck!) a great success. We (over)sold-out the venue, hand a one-in-one-out cue for ages, and the bar took more than it did at Hogmanay! Which was all very nice, though you couldnt get a drink or near the loos for most of the night. Felt quite sorry for the barstaff. But we made about 650 for Shelter, so it was all worth it. The bands seemed to have a good time (and were all excellent, god bless their wee cotton socks). In fact, one of them enjoyed it so much they seem to have formed a permanent Cash tribute. Theyre brill they play their own stuff as Miyagi. Czech oot their myspace.
Other stuff happening too, which Im not going to put on teh intarweb, since every time I mention something on here (Glasgow bands, mainly) it seems to leak back out to the real world. Thar be lurkers, I think. I like to read journals which are honest about the triumphs and frustrations of daily life, but I do often wonder how people who blog like that square it with people close to them. A good proportion of my mates (even the ones who dont insist on thinking SG is PORN and BAD) would be less than chuffed to discover Id been talking about them on here. And I never quite get why people write about the annoying things their partner/flatmate/etc is doing. Surely thats going to come back and bite you on the arse? Or am I just secretive and paranoid?
I would like to be able to write about my hidden thoughts and feelings, but even putting confidentiality aside I find it much more difficult to type those things than to say them. The words on the white screen make everything tooconcrete, I suppose. Im quite an open person, in real life - mainly because Im rubbish at subterfuge, so I have no other choice. Really, though, theres no point in pretending to be other than you are, is there? You will only build your house on sinking sand.
Hope you are all well, my lovelies, and that winter is being kind. x
Anyhoo, Johnny Cash Night was (thank fuck!) a great success. We (over)sold-out the venue, hand a one-in-one-out cue for ages, and the bar took more than it did at Hogmanay! Which was all very nice, though you couldnt get a drink or near the loos for most of the night. Felt quite sorry for the barstaff. But we made about 650 for Shelter, so it was all worth it. The bands seemed to have a good time (and were all excellent, god bless their wee cotton socks). In fact, one of them enjoyed it so much they seem to have formed a permanent Cash tribute. Theyre brill they play their own stuff as Miyagi. Czech oot their myspace.
Other stuff happening too, which Im not going to put on teh intarweb, since every time I mention something on here (Glasgow bands, mainly) it seems to leak back out to the real world. Thar be lurkers, I think. I like to read journals which are honest about the triumphs and frustrations of daily life, but I do often wonder how people who blog like that square it with people close to them. A good proportion of my mates (even the ones who dont insist on thinking SG is PORN and BAD) would be less than chuffed to discover Id been talking about them on here. And I never quite get why people write about the annoying things their partner/flatmate/etc is doing. Surely thats going to come back and bite you on the arse? Or am I just secretive and paranoid?
I would like to be able to write about my hidden thoughts and feelings, but even putting confidentiality aside I find it much more difficult to type those things than to say them. The words on the white screen make everything tooconcrete, I suppose. Im quite an open person, in real life - mainly because Im rubbish at subterfuge, so I have no other choice. Really, though, theres no point in pretending to be other than you are, is there? You will only build your house on sinking sand.
Hope you are all well, my lovelies, and that winter is being kind. x
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(i may have asked this when i was drunk, believe me, i wouldn't remember)
You're not a big fan of frequent journal updates, I see.