Sunday, October 7, 2007

Where does the Pixie writer go?

It was only after I posted yesterday that I saw the comments following my International Day of Peace a la Peace Cafe post. I will post you a debrief on that event in the next few days, maybe even with pictures, if the fates allow. Thanks for asking and I miss writing here every day, too.

What happens when I'm not writing here is a subject of ongoing international debate.

Ok, it's not.

Honestly, I've been reverse-managing my time as part of a CIA experiment to investigate what happens to freelance professionals when they attempt to allow their careers to grow organically, which is to say when they contribute nothing to their own personal future development.

Ok, I haven't. I don't have an answer for you. Well, I do, but I just have no intention of going into it right now. You're not my shrink, for God's sake. I don't want to do it to you.

One thing I have spent time on recently was a treat for Kit Kat. A day of birthday pampering at The Loft, a treat reserved exclusively for only a small number of elite individuals, who consist of, well, just Kate.

Pampering at the Loft is not an event to be taken lightly. A large amount of good food, cheap wine, great music and mindblowing audio visual discovery (including, but by no means restricted to, goat porn) is involved, and only a few people in the world can handle this kind of paradigm-shifting experience. Fortunately Kate and I are two such people. Follow the links below and one day, you might be such people too. But careful what you wish for.

In our travels around the Loft yesterday, the sights we took included:

The Los Angeles Gay Men's Chorus.

One of the Chief's current favourite pieces of music, from Atonement, which fell into our laps in an unusually serendipitous moment of YouTube labyrinthine exploration.

The unusually amazing Laura Marlin.

The discovery of Ze Frank, via TED Talks, and his amazing website. This guy is fascinated with social online interaction, and we spent far too long on his site this morning over coffee. 

We can both recommend The Scribbler, which takes your doodle and turns it into art, and when you've finished trying it for yourself, go back and check out The Gallery - you won't believe what this little tool can do (I'm sure I've said that before).

We also took some time out to out our lives to rights, express our fears and hopes, decide whether we would sooner have sex with Adolf Hitler or Margaret Thatcher if the lives of those we loved depended on it (I refuse to discuss the nature of the half hour long discussion that followed), and to end the evening with some magic.

Some people might say that my return to the blogosphere is so far almost entirely devoted to recommendations. Some people might say that this is a copout from writing about more meaningful things here in blogsville. I avoid these people. So should you. Check out the links and shut up and drink your gin. I can talk about the confusions and the shining joys of love and life anytime, I just choose not to.

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