First, let me just say that the electronic curse of the Emperor’s Mill holds fast. I spilled coffee on my already wonky laptop and thus frizzled the cap locks and “A” key. It is currently at the shop awaiting a new keyboard. Of course, I won’t get it back until Friday because I need it Tuesday. Actually, I need it right this moment, but I can make due with Tuesday.
Things are a little crazy in Boweltown these days and because of this new project of mine, I’m having to, for the first time, censor myself. I mean, I have censored my stories forever as my dad reads this occasionally and he has no interest in hearing about “things that fathers don’t need to know about daughters” no matter how fantastic the stories are. He is a full blooded Italian.
However, the people I will be working with know about this blog and they know Sparky. I am not comfortable with that. They can know Sparky, they have to, but I wish this space had remained anonymous to that world. Especially right now as I could really use this space to go off about certain aspects of love, marriage and the baby carriage. The stuff they never tell you outside the self-help section of the local bookshop.
Lately, I’ve been using my Magic Eight Ball as my life coach, soothsayer and guru. Let me tell you, It never lies. And its way less expensive than a therapist. I know because I’m seeing one of those too.
So basically there is nothing I can say except for what not to do when exploring another planet because I’ve been watching so much Stargate SG1 when I’m not translating, traveling or planning. TV watching is my escape of choice since drinking, smoking and whoring is no longer a viable option. I mean, I can drink and smoke, but what fun is that without the whoring? And last I heard, we are not swingers. Damn.
In Hamburg for two days this week, London for a few days next week and then up to Hamburg if I can find a suitable apartment – I’m bringing the cats and this seems to be an international rental problem.
If I can’t find an apartment, then I’ll probably be commuting. Fly out on Sunday night and fly back Thursday night kind of commuting.
Who knows. Everything is so up in the air right now. All I can do is learn to fly.