Something new, then

I have a sitemeter, which I have found to be, up till now, redundant. The number of people I know who read me I can count on one hand, and I don’t really need some generic counter to tell me that I average perhaps five people on a good day, and close to none (if five isn’t close enough) on the others. Still, I have one, if only to make me feel perhaps more legitimate in this tech-trendy world, and it amuses me mildly.

But it’s been a while since I have written, and an equally long time since I’ve checked to see if anyone still, you know, cares, and so it was pretty startling, really, when I did and found these:

• An eleven-visitor day (the 23^rd, if you must know)
• A substantial list of Google/Yahoo referrals
• A relatively long list of keywords – well, four, actually, which is long relative to zero. As is anything.

Perhaps it is the cyber-cheap-equivalent of van Gogh, and it is only in its premature, apparent death that it can flourish.

You may think of this, then, as a panicked attempt to reduce it to its former obscurity, because all this “attention” is just freaky.

But anyway.

Merry Christmas, belatedly, and a Happy New Year to all.

And a very, “VERY Happy Birthday!!!” to my skinny, string-beany, funny friend – you always were my favourite prefect. ;o)

Being...

There is a rule against sleeping in clubs, apparently. No drunken passing-out allowed – the club gets fined, and this makes them just a wee bit unhappy.

So what happens then, to the girl with sore feet who needs to sit, and dehydrated contact lenses that hurt when she opens her eyes?

Well she tapped her feet, swayed her body, bobbed her head, and sang along to the music that came crashing out of the speakers nearby, just so bouncers would know she was awake and stop, you know, poking her in the knee and making ridiculously un-bouncery “twinkle twinkle little star” motions with their hands when she cracked open an aching eye.

All this movement, mind you, eyes closed to the world.

I felt like..Stevie Wonder.