Lost and Found

I didn't realise how long it's been since my last blog, although this time I at least have a pseudo-valid reason, or "excuse", because my laptop was stolen from my very home a few weeks ago, and I have only NOW gotten my hands on a replacement.

Of course, the trouble with doing this so infrequently is that I attempt to cram lots of stuff into each blog, which then becomes a Rosy Digest, when I'd really rather be more Rosy Daytime TV, so henceforth I will give you snippets of news, beefed on all sides by utter nonsense. It will give all the impression of harbouring relevant information and/or potential wisdom but in fact will not even exist: you are merely being haunted by your hopes for what the future may bring.

I'm feeling very excited at the moment because in a couple of weeks I'm heading over to the US of A, and will be there until the first week of November. I have been practicing accents; if you put in the necessary effort and stalk me, you may hear such attempts echoing out through my living room windows. If this is you, please also bring rooibos and vanilla teabags, because I ran out yesterday and am simply too lazy to buy more.

I'll be flying out to San Francisco, doing a few gigs around California and Nevada, and getting some hardcore pottering done. If anyone is familiar with that bit of the world, please feel free to forcefeed suggestions.

Speaking of forcefeeding [sort of], along with writers James Burt and Kay Sexton, I became a part of the Wordia "Visual Dictionary" last week. It was most bizarre but rather good fun - check out my entries on the website, under "note" and "incorporate", and upload your own if you have such technology at your fingertips.

Next Thursday, on National Poetry Day, I will be giving at talk on Cannibalism and Love Poetry in Performance, at David Bramwell's excellent Catalyst Club, in Brighton. For more info, see here: http://www.catalystclub.co.uk

I am all alone this evening for the first time in ages and it is a strange feeling. Perhaps if I drink tea and listen to Ace of Base it will begin to feel less strange, but just in case, please send me gentle companion-based thoughts [maybe more].


p.s. The shop is in Gardenstown, Aberdeenshire and well worth a visit if you are keen on crazy vendors, non-bargains and perilous levels of grime.