Boring stuff

Went Grandad's funeral. It was really more like catching up with relations - one big family gathering than about him. The only time I heard any words about him was at the memorial service - I was one of the few people who didn't cry. Sort of non-feelings. More on blog about the actual day.

St. Patrick's Eve - this was mostly spent at what was the closest approximation to a fifties coffee house where everyone was trying to sound intelligent I can describe. Basically everyone spoke wank. I hadn't seen Jes in ages, so when he showed up at Scruffy Murphy's, one of the fake Irish pubs in town, I agreed to go with him to the place his friends were at. Never, ever again. I'd forgotten how much shite Jes talks, and how much I don't connect with his friends, what he talks about as though it's interesting and meaningful and... sorry, Jes, but no longer intersecting. Next time I'll stay in the pub and listen to the Irish band, not having to wave smoke out of my face every two seconds and try and make myself understood in a dark dank attic where people talk about Generation X and are basically beardy.