I get around
No, not in that way[1]. And I hope you now have the Beach Boys tune stuck in your head for the next 24 hours. Ha hah! - my middle name is Spite[2].
What I mean is that, despite being resolutely silent here, I’ve been cropping up elsewhere.
- See me ask Iain M Banks about literary manifestos!
- Observe my curmudgeonly fizzog manifesting on Warren Ellis’ site[2]!
I know, I know - it’s all too much, isn’t it?
Talking about things being a bit all-too-much, it looks like an old friend colleague fellow blogger has resurfaced from the past. At the moment he seems to be retreading a familiar path to the one I met him on; as such, I shall be observing from a safe distance. Twice shy and all that, y’know.
Other me news (because it’s all about me, after all) - my holiday is totally freakin’ booked!
Your “cool [stuff/people/places] to [see/drink/eat/kill/dance with] in Berlin” tips will be much appreciated.
Oh, look - bedtime! Nighty-night, blogosphere.
[ 1 - Pure as driven snow, me. Driven down a London gutter in front of a snowplow, that is.]
[ 2 - Yeah, I know it's not - but once the deed poll paperwork clears... ]
[ 3 - Looks like a certain Shaun C Green made the cut, too, and a few people who I think I recognised but couldn't be sure of. ]
