Man, it's all go at the moment. I keep meaning to getting around to blog about the Mono launch party for Andrew Raymond Drennan's Cancer Party the other Monday, or the audition to play King Charles I in a dramatic reconstruction on the Tuesday (cause writers be poor and could use the dosh so WTF why not sign up to an extras agency (though, alas, no word back yet)), or the Friday night performance of Word Dogs at Underword through in Edinburgh as part of the Fringe and how I left my very nice leather satchel on the train back to Glasgow, or the Amanda Palmer gig on the Saturday night where I was joking rather loudly about how the perniciously positive influence of Neil Gaiman on Ms. Palmer HAD TO BE STOPPED (mark my words, he'll have her singing about kittens and bunny rabbits and flowers instead of abortions and date rape and general fucked-upness!) only to be told that he was standing right behind me, or the double-header performance of meself and Richard Mosses at Underword on the Sunday night, and how after staying over with A & J for the night I managed to pick up aforesaid nice leather satchel at Lost Property on the way home (hoorah!), or the pdf of the piano music for Beautiful Dream which I got through from the college kids in the US (Hi, Beth! Hi, Ben!) who want to stage it with their theatre group (though it's by no means certain they'll be able to yet,) or the Sekrit Projekt that may be manifesting.
But I don't seem to have time.
So instead I'll just say a big YAY, cause it looks like I'll be going to Utopiales again this year, which is extraspecialgood what with me being up for the Prix Européen Utopiales 2009 and, hey, I'm working on the principle that I won't win, but if I'm going to drown my sorrows anywhere, where better than in the Land of Red Wine-A-Plenty, and this year I'll definitely make it along to the giant wooden elephant thingy.
So, yeah. Busy busy busy busy.