Wednesday night: some indulgent ramblings
Feb. 23rd, 2006 10:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sawylI think I promised to write a little something about last night, complete with details of indiscretions, moral lapses, faux pas, and generally blackmailable material, but since any and all such events involved Yours Truly, I'm going to gloss over them and dwell indulgently on the acts, missteps and follies of others instead.
After a mad dash to escape from work in time to running, grab a shower and blaze down to Kino in time to meet the rest of gang from our Beloved Vendor, they were late. Thus it was that I found myself enjoying a pleasant quarter of an hour relaxing in calming surroundings and discussing the art of making the perfect bloody mary with the duty mixologist. Probably just as well for, mere tens of minutes after arriving, the rest of the gang decided to adjourn to the restaurant despite the appalling earliness of the hour.
The meal itself was surprisingly enjoyable, thanks mainly to my cunning strategy of ensuring that I was placed as far a way from my Lords and Masters as possible. In the end, I sat next to Keith, opposite one of the Masters after God (scientific, rather than technical, which made all the difference) and opposite an extremely jet lagged member of the Japanese delegation. The evening past swiftly and without too many shocking indiscretions on my part although just as we were preparing to depart I somehow managed, while attempting to emphasize some now forgotten conversation point which seemed extremely important, to knock a raffia work ball off shelf. It was at this point that the entirety of the rest of the Menagerie delegation and the poor time-tormented travelers took their leave, while the remaining few souls retreated back to the shameless hedonism of the Barcelona.
The remains of the day passed more or less as expected although our Teutonic associate's decision to smoke a cigar resulted in his banishment to the opposite end of the room, away from the long suffering mixologists and their hopefully near–pristine lungs. For some unknown reason, Keith and I felt no pressing need to join him and Mr Jones, decided instead to remain precariously perched at the bar, where I lapsed into full buffy speak mode and geeked out the total greatness of computing. I felt kinda bad about that, doubly so when I discovered the Germanic gentlemen's heretofore concealed cultural Achilles heal — he apparently likes English choral music and Britten in particular — so he can't be all bad.
After the closure of the bar, we relocated to the lounge whereupon our Continental associate somehow managed to get embroiled in a conversation with a woman who's mother was German, which gave the two of them a natural affinity. She then launched into a great discussion of how her life would be so much better if only she could study for a PhD in Art History, allowing her to do the things that she's always wanted to do, like breed horses and teach children. I think I said that she needed to be more authentic and then promptly demonstrated my own lack of authenticity by claiming that the only things I wanted out of my working life was a sound proof office, something I'm unlikely to get in the airport departure lounge that is the Menagerie's "futuristic glass headquarters, incongruously set in a dreary industrial estate on the outskirts of Exeter."
After a little more conversation, I eventually decided to go home and retire to bed. Before I crashed, I was sufficiently collected to send the boss an email telling him I was going to be late in and to switch off my alarm. I woke up at about quarter to ten, feeling healthier and more rested than I've felt for weeks. In fact, my lie in was the high point of the entire event. I think I'm going to try it tomorrow. Maybe I'll use the snowy forecast as an excuse...
After a mad dash to escape from work in time to running, grab a shower and blaze down to Kino in time to meet the rest of gang from our Beloved Vendor, they were late. Thus it was that I found myself enjoying a pleasant quarter of an hour relaxing in calming surroundings and discussing the art of making the perfect bloody mary with the duty mixologist. Probably just as well for, mere tens of minutes after arriving, the rest of the gang decided to adjourn to the restaurant despite the appalling earliness of the hour.
The meal itself was surprisingly enjoyable, thanks mainly to my cunning strategy of ensuring that I was placed as far a way from my Lords and Masters as possible. In the end, I sat next to Keith, opposite one of the Masters after God (scientific, rather than technical, which made all the difference) and opposite an extremely jet lagged member of the Japanese delegation. The evening past swiftly and without too many shocking indiscretions on my part although just as we were preparing to depart I somehow managed, while attempting to emphasize some now forgotten conversation point which seemed extremely important, to knock a raffia work ball off shelf. It was at this point that the entirety of the rest of the Menagerie delegation and the poor time-tormented travelers took their leave, while the remaining few souls retreated back to the shameless hedonism of the Barcelona.
The remains of the day passed more or less as expected although our Teutonic associate's decision to smoke a cigar resulted in his banishment to the opposite end of the room, away from the long suffering mixologists and their hopefully near–pristine lungs. For some unknown reason, Keith and I felt no pressing need to join him and Mr Jones, decided instead to remain precariously perched at the bar, where I lapsed into full buffy speak mode and geeked out the total greatness of computing. I felt kinda bad about that, doubly so when I discovered the Germanic gentlemen's heretofore concealed cultural Achilles heal — he apparently likes English choral music and Britten in particular — so he can't be all bad.
After the closure of the bar, we relocated to the lounge whereupon our Continental associate somehow managed to get embroiled in a conversation with a woman who's mother was German, which gave the two of them a natural affinity. She then launched into a great discussion of how her life would be so much better if only she could study for a PhD in Art History, allowing her to do the things that she's always wanted to do, like breed horses and teach children. I think I said that she needed to be more authentic and then promptly demonstrated my own lack of authenticity by claiming that the only things I wanted out of my working life was a sound proof office, something I'm unlikely to get in the airport departure lounge that is the Menagerie's "futuristic glass headquarters, incongruously set in a dreary industrial estate on the outskirts of Exeter."
After a little more conversation, I eventually decided to go home and retire to bed. Before I crashed, I was sufficiently collected to send the boss an email telling him I was going to be late in and to switch off my alarm. I woke up at about quarter to ten, feeling healthier and more rested than I've felt for weeks. In fact, my lie in was the high point of the entire event. I think I'm going to try it tomorrow. Maybe I'll use the snowy forecast as an excuse...
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no subject
Date: 2006-02-23 11:40 pm (UTC)PS : Which Biosphere lp do you have ?
Do you have the Arne Nordheim remix ? Looking for it.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-24 07:40 am (UTC)Your lack of presence was noted on more than one occasion. I suspect that by the end of the night, after being forced to put up with the bulk of my enthusiastic ramblings for a prolonged period, Keith was seriously ruing his decision not to invite you guys, if only to dilute my influence...
I was listening to Dropsonde on Late Junction. Seems kinda cool.