Beer.

Fuck, I'm bored of not having a bloody social life. Much as I like the Bearded One's math-buddies (luvverly people that they are) hanging out with them socially tends to mean that I spend a lot of the time with a rabbit-in-the-headlights face on, waiting for the conversation to leave ninteen-dimensional spheres or what some guy I don't know said to some woman I don't know about something I don't understand anyway and get back to Buffy or Blake's 7. Now that I've got some of the teejus crap sorted out (PPS number in post, list of temp agencies in knapsack, etc etc) I'm going to start heading into the local alternoweird hang-outs.

Can you hear me, Goths of Cork? Stop yer grinnin' and drop yer linen-- I'm comin' for ya.

Trouble with this gig is, it's sort of travelling and sort of being stuck in one place. If you're travelling and you're going to be somewhere for, say, a couple of weeks, you can usually find a few bods who speak your lingo to knock around with. Six months, and you've got to sort out jobs, tax, banks... the claws of grey and dismal Reality sink deep into your flesh, while just beyond your reach fun is being had and BEER is being drunk.

One of the things I've promised myself while I'm here is a new tatt. I want something to remind myself of my stay here. Haven't decided what to get yet, but I'm leaning towards a design of hops.

Trouble.

And another thing: I think I'm in trouble, magickally speaking. I mentioned in a previous post that I'd been neglecting that area of my life of late.

Now, when this has happened in the past, I've been allowed to coast along without any hassle for months at a time. The magickal universe will stroll up and tap me on the shoulder when it wants me.

This time, it's different. I'm not going to be allowed to let things slide. Stuff is happening to me: I have dreams where I've lost something, dreams where I was supposed to do something important and I failed. And I'm getting lost. This is a tiny city compared to London, yet I'm still getting lost after two weeks. I can't seem to follow a map anymore. I just get turned around. The magick wants me back and it wants me back now. I don't know why it's become so bloody important all of a sudden. I think something big is going down soon.

The really annoying thing is, I'll probably never know what.


Still if we're playing hardball now...

You want me back, Magick? You want me to make with the chanting and the candles and the doodles and the running round like a looney and the stinky incense? You want moi to dedicate large chunks of this brief mortal life to mucking about with vous?

Fine. You've got it. But here's the deal: You want my life, you fix my bloody life.

You stop leaving me to rot in cruddy jobs that are so far below my skills level that I get vertigo just thinking about it. You know what I'm good at. Give me a living I can live with.

You stop making me spend a disgustingly large chunk of my paltry income on rent. I want a place that's cheap and not too grim. A fixer-upper will do. I want to buy a huge disused factory for a dollar, like in The Blair Witch II: Book of Shadows. Only without all the, y'know, death and blood and dead owls. And death.

And most importantly: I want to be here for other people. No making me be a bad friend. Got that?

Do we have a deal, Magick?