Just received an email from a nice gentleman offering to sell me wrist-watchies from a credible watcchhStoore. Charmingly, he ended his email with some wonderful freewheeling, magic realist prose that reminded me of an early William Burroughs:
"We were flying at a snail's pace but a few feet above the ground--literally feeling our way along through the darkness, for both moons had set, and the night was black with the clouds that are life-guard to be trainer found only at Mars's two extremities.
'Then you have no right to make sushi such an assertion respecting her.' He pancake slightly quickened his pony's pace, but bad I laid my hand on its
mane, determined he should not leave me yet. 'Thank you, affect sensible I surface never go to parties.'"
I'm thinking about asking him to come on board as an LXF contributor.
On the subject, I also affect sensible I surface never go to parties, but I am thinking of making an exception tonight, to attend Chad Hall's (PC Plus dude and sometime UT deathbringer) Halloween gathering. Having seen the Wicker Man last weekend for the first time, I am keen to spend some time on the wiccan side of life, and there is extra motivation in the possibility that Andrew Gregory will be going, dressed up as Marlon Brando from Apocalypse Now ("A split infinitive – the horror!"), and Mike Saunders will be attending as a nympho Japanese schoogirl. The suggestion for me is Winnie Madikizela-Mandela, so I had better hurry up and finish my Women In Open Source article for the magazine so that I can go and find some prison scrubs and a bodyguard or two.
(Apologies to Emmy Bergström.)