Sporadically speaking

I was going to have more to say about this tumblr post but I really think that there's anything to add. After all, the nearest thing I have to a brother is a younger cousin who I've spent many years referring to as 'my little cousin', who while younger than me, is taller, far more built, and could probably have me in a fight, if I wasn't biting. By way of comparison, at one point he was going to the gym to do free weights regularly while I went to dance classes. The point being, in regards to physical contact, I've literally had one 'bro hug' from him, while I was in intensive care recently, and the rest of the time we shake hands. Though I've yet to ascertain whether or not he still does the instant zippo held out to light my cigarette these days, since it's been some time.

Unrelated to the above, this clip from Mean Girls has confirmed that I model my work mode of action on Regina George. I'm not sure if I'm horrified or pleased.

In a dirty bogus business, riddled with deceit, manipulation and betrayal, an intelligence service maintains it sanity by developing its own concept of what it believes to be the truth. Those agents who confirm this perceived truth - even if it is wrong - prosper. Those who deny it - even if they are right - fall under suspicion.
- The Cambridge Spies - Philip Knightley

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Since I’m still, slightly, somewhat, determined to not make this a fic journal like my LJ, that X-Men – First Class fic has been relegated to AO3. Not that I may ever have anything else to contribute to that fandom until tessercat writes something else, because it’s most certainly not my intention to start writing the Erik to his Charles. Nor am I even protesting just a little too much. I’m not at all sure that I have much of anything to say about the scenario unless it’s pingback off someone else, mostly because I’m trying to pack up and go on hiatus, and also in a smaller degree because my inherent PolSci nature will otherwise surface and I’ll find myself ranting about the failure of the European project again. I am, after all, wholly disillusioned with the EU as a democratic mechanism because that’s what it was marketed as, when really, it’s just another technocratic solution that expected public validation after the fact.

( Linguistic shorthand )

In other news, I was actually doing quite well with Steak House or Gay Bar, until the name of an actual pub I’ve been to came up. Of course I figured that it must be a steak house somewhere else in the world, only to discover that no, that was the exact pub being referred to. And to think, I’d almost forgotten most of that pub crawl, that criss-crossed most of London, and led to myself and the sole friend who remained at the end of it, cackling over mulled wine in a pub that I’ve never actually been able to find since.