Where I bindungon

[smokingboot]

To those who commented on my previous post re Tux;

You are very kind. Of him there is little to say except to thank you, you warmed my heart.





There was exemplary hospitality, courtesy of mamapusscat and half_orc.

There was an evening at the fascinating coffee shop Coffee, Cake and Kink, with the marvellous bytepilot.

There was the British Museum, of course, in the company of the_lore; In the Sumerian galleries I found the piece called 'Queen of the Night.' Maybe it was there before and I missed it. No-one seems to be sure if this is a representation of Inanna, or Lilitu or Ishtar, but it is utterly beautiful and much stronger in reality than any photo can depict, though attempts can be found everywhere.

(http://www.unf.edu/classes/freshmancore/core1images/inanna.jpg)

There was an afternoon at St Pancras, a lovely and ancient church.

There was the birthday party of two amazing women and the birth of a colt: my contribution to all this was cutting a horse's head out of a magazine and sticking it on a 'Congratulations, it's a baby boy!' card. It wasn't my idea, I promise you...

There was West Sussex and a day at the sea, flying a kite, playing with the sky and water, connecting back to the source, too wonderful to properly describe.

There was the Beltane Bash and many old friends, warm as ever, vibrant as ever, nuts as ever.

There was the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain courtesy of the indescribable colonel_maxim in the company of such luminaries as caddyman, ellefurtle and romney: if I keep having flashbacks to Anarchy in the UK played on a ukulele, or the swing version of Wuthering Heights, perhaps the one responsible will face appropriate karma, maybe by finding himself surrounded by Estonians with dour tales of wooden parrots. Maybe God has made it happen already. Karma can work fast.


There was also work of course, and my list of studio related disasters grows ever longer; Due to a curious mishap with chairs and monitors, I found myself facing the public of Great Britain with my chin below camera level; sometimes my nose dipped to join it. Our audience, new to my pygmy status, seemed to enjoy themselves. At other times, the offending chair tilted right back before the camera, allowing the audience to see my true form as a long calabash in a green t-shirt with a tiny widdle head on the top; the chair has not worked out how to tip me over completely, so the audience has yet to enjoy the sight of my heels kicking wildly above my head, mike lost between my bosoms, but give it time. All things come to those who wait.




Then there was acupuncture. I had been watching myself on screen, noticing my strangely hunched shoulders and tense expression; I need to relax, I thought, and some stupid instinct drove me to try acupuncture. They say it doesn't hurt, you know.

One needle in my forehead, one in my arm and I screamed. I am needle phobic, but I thought it would be OK, cos these don't look like hypodermics. Well, I learned something interesting; it's not the look that gives me the fear, but the way it feels when it goes in, and when it doesn't come out, the pain is intense.

It receded in my head, but the pain in my arm was horrible, and here's the odd thing; I suddenly re-experienced memories of early childhood. Not things I had forgotten, just things I had relegated to the back of my mind, old junk. Suddenly it was real and vivid and terrible. And I screamed and cried and forbade the acupuncturist to go any further ('Just one more, in the leg?' she coaxed) but no.

According to her, I have been totally and entirely super-sensitized; this has good aspects and bad. I presume it means that when things go wrong in your life, I will leap to your side in a latex outfit and weep alongside you, or say things like 'I sense great anger,' a la Deanne Troy. You don't have to thank me. The acupuncturist said many kind and true things, and certainly I understand some stuff that has caused me great unhappiness, long term and recently. Weirdly, it worked too: I was much more relaxed that night on air. Whether this was because she had tweaked some meridians/energy lines or whether it was because my body was relaxing after self-induced torture, I do not know. I admit I am tempted to go back at some point. The acupuncturist thinks we could try moxibustion, which seems to mean warming the instruments before entry. Clearly, red hot needles are an advance on ordinary scream inducers. Hmm. I'll mull on that one for a while.


And now I am here, coffee cup in hand, back with my dear larians and the kitties. My only regret is that I did not get to see a whole bunch of London chums including some ljers; I very much hope to see you soon.


Good morning LJ :-)

Comments

[bytepilot.livejournal.com]

Morning gorgeous,
(hugs)

[jfs.livejournal.com]

Somewhat egotistical, but I thought you might like to read the first drabble on this list. :-)

[littlemiscowboy.livejournal.com]

We've got your channel flagged up on Sky now and I periodically flick over to see if you're on.

Garrett thinks I'm mad when I wave at you on the box and say to him "wave hello to Auntie Debbie", but he does wave at you and then comes over and whacks you on the head when you're in the little Option 1/2 boxes in the corners of the screen. I hope he doesn't hurt you!

[hybridartifacts.livejournal.com]

Glad to hear you are enjoying London-and West Sussex too (thats my patch). Where in West Sussex did you go?