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goldfish brain
It's Friday afternoon again. That means I'm supervising students doing coursework. Which means I can spod but only concentrate for three seconds at a time. Which means... memes!
I like the memory one. What's the first memory that comes to mind when you think of me? Tell me about it.
I like the memory one. What's the first memory that comes to mind when you think of me? Tell me about it.
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I quite enjoyed the day though I walked my poor little feet off. Shame about the cows though.
Might not be the best of memories for you though.
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fake painting
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Ooops. Sorry. Just typed the first thing that came into mind. And it's nothing personal - breasts are just often the first thing to come into a man's mind. They're not really a memory, though, so not quite what you asked for. (I tend not to memorise women's breasts. They're not, in my experience, a very useful tool for establishing identity.)
Sorry. No memories really jump out at me. I have to actually think about it, which means that my mind (methodical and boring as it is) throws up my actual first memory involving you - that'd be meeting you for the first time in the Shakespeare's Head. That was a couple of years ago, I think. As memories go, it's hardly enthralling stuff to tell of. There will not, I fear, be large queues of people waiting for me to retell this particular memory, hanging on my every word.
Not interesting at all, really.
Unlike breasts...
(It's friday. Let me have my fun!)
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I just re-read that, and a short way into it my "internal voice" changed from mine to that of Jeff from Coupling (http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/coupling/). That can't be a good thing... Especially as it worked quite well.
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(As the actress said to the bishop.)
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I am, therefore, about to eat chocolate. Just to see what happens.
Stand well back! I'm about to light the fuse!
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I just had to say that.
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Yay!
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Confession time: I have been swallowed up by Billware. Well, all I do on computers is write these days, and I need to send people Word docs. *blush*
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How are the mighty fallen!
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So I really can't point fingers at you. :) And hey, you find writing important. You can't lose too many points for that.
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I’m not sure I should really go into great depth in public.
I still feel a bit guilty about your bag getting stolen.
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Don't be - I managed to rewrite everything that was any good in the notebook I lost, and nothing else in it mattered a damn in the long term.
(I didn't manage to reconstruct my favourite thing in it, which was a story about a sociopathic girl and the messy murder of a cat called Sartre. But something very like it cropped up in my Nano.)
Plus I should have had more sense than to leave a bag outside my field of vision in a Wetherspoons...
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(Should meet in real life at some stage...)
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* Nothing I do is eveer an acsidnert.
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ooh, and that
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Jammin'.
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Would be great to catch up with you and
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I have to nitpick, though, it's not a fly but a bee that I fiddled with in Photoshop so it would be blue. I like the idea of blue bees, for some reason.
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Lost somewhere in 2001
(Anonymous) 2004-04-24 12:42 am (UTC)(link)Somewhere in 2001, the William Morris in Hammersmith, probably full of very drunk people in school uniform (it usually was in my memory).
Sitting talking away like we'd known each other years, while the reason for your being there sat doing the Times crossword.
Seems like a long time ago...
[apologies for anonymity, but I have no usable LJ account]
Hmm... been thinking about this one
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My first memory of you, I think, was your coming to the Tokyo Diner along with