I'm excessively happy that project-Z seems to be coming together (finally!). Now Spires, Nanzo and (amazingly enough!) Lyca are getting set up it's all feeling increasingly real.
On the other side of things I'm also acclimatising to the fact that I've actually joined the -osphere. I have an intense hatred for the word 'blog', it's extremely ugly and reminds me of (the possibly more foul and certainly overused by JK Rowling) 'snog'. It also has a whole host of truly foul associations (at least for me). Thankfully weblogs in general are connoted with fourteen year old emo kids in the media and the the public consciousness less and less. They're accepted as having multifarious functions and readers. Nonetheless I don't think the ugly little word can quite shake off those unpleasant connections, and I'm never emo. I may occasionally be introspective, and that's an entirely different thing. So if you could humour me and think of this as a 'journal', 'weblog' (if you must), 'a collection of posts' or some other vaguely suitable noun I shall be grateful.
I also kind of resent the fact that merely by posting on the big wide web I somehow apparently joined a sphere or community, without even getting a membership discount or something worthwhile. I don't dispute the fact that there are thriving online communities (hell, we're in the process of setting one up), but simply because I'm capable of typing and pressing that little 'post' button doesn't seem like an adequate reason for me to be a member of some nonsense. I don't think I want to necessarily be considered part of it, especially when you consider how much nonsense is produced. I suppose this is comparable to disliking the bulk of humanity; they're all blithering idiots and I don't see why I ought to be lumped in with them. Viva la non-person!
I'm in a slightly grumpy mood due to sleep deprivation and the fact that I'm nursing a multi-day hangover. But what's new about that? Jes has now left, which sucks because I've realised just how much I've not learnt my way around Hongdae and Sinchon! I'm going to have to somehow develop a sense of direction very quickly. It's just been a ridiculous few weeks, on Monday I took the subway home straight after work and couldn't work out why it felt so odd until I realised that it was the first time I'd taken the subway home for a week. Fair enough I'd stayed in on Saturday, but every other night I'd come back in a taxi. It's been the same every day since Monday this week too, and clambering into bed after 7am can be disorientating enough even when you don't have to wake up for work in a few short hours.
I'm excited to see the pictures from Tuesday night, Jes let me steal his semi-professional camera and I was actually fairly proficient with the settings and lens twiddling. I haven't owned a camera of my own for years (and never a decent one), but I often get my grubby mitts on those belonging to various friends and family members so I suppose I've had a fair bit of practice. We were all gazing with rapture at some of the pictures I'd taken and K has semi-seriously designated me as her official photographer. I'm hoping that they don't look awful blown up and when sober. Alcohol does make everything prettier somehow, and certainly funnier. K and I were in hysterics for several hours about our conversation with a bell that happened to be dangling over our table ("do you hang here often?" etc). I think perhaps my current choice of reading material, On The Road, might have somehow permeated everyone with a touch of the surreal- Jes, K and I managed to maintain a brilliant conversation using languages in which only one of us each had a decent level of comprehension (Russian, Korean and French respectively) after the others left.
Today (well yesterday now since it's around 6am, let's just split the difference and call it 'Friday') was a bank holiday, so predictably there was a decent amount of Thursday night celebration. I didn't end up returning home until Friday eventime, which I have to say feels a little bit ridiculous. I think that I need to try to curb my enthusiasm a little, and at least pretend to be a grown up for about half of the week. I'm moving to my new apartment tomorrow (or rather, in a few hours time) and have had about two hours kip. I'm mostly packed up, but I haven't cleaned the place at all so I need to get on with that. Eventually. Once I've moved I think that I may be returned to the split shift, which would be rather annoying but also might force me to act a bit more like a responsible adult at least.
As a responsible and mature person I have a new career in consideration: namely being a script doctor for the new Batman movie. Beware of spoilers for The Dark Knight. I've clearly come up with the best plot ever. Firstly, lots and lots of Scarecrow screen time is definitely required. My plot idea though revolved around Gordon's little blond son who didn't get killed at the end of the movie. As I said before I reckon that he'd end up with innumerable issues due to the fact that a hero saved his life, quickly followed by said hero lying about what happened and consequently being set upon and hated by society as a whole. Not to mention his father colluding in perpetuating this deception, as well as leading the hunt for Batman. That little kid would clearly grow up fucked up. After some extensive research on the topic (i.e. idly chatting with Ringo about the film) I recalled that Barbara Gordon (i.e. Gordon's little blonde daughter) becomes Batgirl, and yet in The Dark Knight there didn't seem to be any Babs, Gordon just had two sons. Therefore I think that it would make perfect sense that Gordon's son is going to develop some absolutely brilliant Daddy-issues, as well as become completely disillusioned with his world's horrible macho-worship and chauvinism. Surely a series which created such a wonderful dark, creepy Joker could also produce a desperate, troubled transvestite Batgirl, right? Lee Pace could be a great Batgirl, although he is overly tall. Or maybe they could cast Cillian Murphy in the role, having him play two characters in homage to the awful, campy TV series.
I've somehow managed to convince other people that this is an excellent idea too. They may have had ulterior motives I suppose, for example I think J would have agreed to pretty much anything once I bought her a cocktail and let her use me as a pillow. But I'll take what I can get!