Rory, Jason and the knaive of hearts

Adrian has left us, not to return until the spring (or the autumn, as the aussies would call it (freaks)). Behind him, he leaves a string of broken Jasons, who had become fast friends with ole' Goldilocks. But all good things must end, and the two will never see each other again. Ever.

I'm crying on the inside...neato.

In other news, I have now written more works based on Invocal songs than not; if I were a writer of note, this would be of interest but I'm not so it isn't and...where was I going with this? Was I just trying to make myself cry? Well, mission accomplised.
Yes, my writers group had its final meeting on Monday (seems like just yesterday I started my travels with the eleventh doctor, now I'm stuck in past New York), and it all culminated in a reading by actors of the pieces we had worked since August (damn, that's a long time...why was mine so awful?). The reading went well, and the actors certainly gave it their all, but cold readings always lack a certain something, so everyone clapped appropriately, but I'm not sure anyone was entirely satisfied. Alack. Still, it was an incredibly fun thing to be a part of, and I got, like, two friends out of it, so go me. (Gonna go ahead and create tags for 'em- Charlotte and Simon (who already has a quote attributed to him)).

Anything else? Well, uni's being a downer, making me work and such. Oh well, at least I managed to get up before twelve today. Hooray!

Time flies by in the city of light

I just realised that I have now been here eight weeks. That is 2/13ths; this doesn't seem like much until I think about how quickly the time has gone, and suddenly I realise that I'm not gonna be here much longer. I have similar realisations on my birthday. Makes a guy think, you know?

In other news, I took some random pictures yesterday. There was of a massive pile of sawdust that was just sitting outside Yarra, not really sure why:

They were preparing for the biblical flood of vomit. Duh.

Pretty sure it's in the disabled parking spot.

And then there was a dalek eye stalk in the wall outside the rowden white:

PRO-CRAS-TIN-ATE!

Sadly, Declan was not on hand to see all the head I kept when I spotted that Dalek or the incredible skill I displayed in talking at it then running, so my future as the next companion is still not secured.
P.S. Who else is stoked for doctor who on saturday? I may well stay up until four o'clock just so I can watch it live online. I mean, no. I don't do that.

Adrian has expressed his willingness to come to the great barrier reef with me, which would be sweet. Jason has gone to the Great Ocean Road this weekend, and I really wish I could've gone too, but I have an assignment due and he didn't really invite me. At all.

Which is fine, cos he looks like this.

I'm also starting to entertain ideas about what I'm gonna do for my 21st, and suggestions now include: a brothel, the zoo, drunken laser tag, drunken science museum or a brothel.
I say why pick and choose?

Two drifters, off to see the world

Another piece of evidence that the Rowden White natives are starting to accept me as one of their own: I was given a free mars bar with my headphones and PC this morning. Spiffing.

I actually managed to beat someone at a sport this weekend- and not just anyone, either. It was Adrian, who owns multiple sports shirts (which somehow make him look kinda like the knave of hearts).

Go Dropbears!

Admittedly, the game was air hockey, which, granted, hasn't made it into the olympics quite yet, but I'm pretty sure it involves hand-eye co-ordination or something. So, go me.

This weekend also saw the largest party I have ever managed to gather for my evening constitutional; an entire six people! This was mainly due to the alcohol the other five had imbibed, which made the stroll feel a bit more like taking the family's pack of inebriated, hyperactive dogs for a walk, but it was still a pleasant evening.

The pliant one is now in the great white North, which feels odd. I was already half-a-world away from him, but now he's not even in the place I left him, not unlike my house keys; if I was to go back now, he wouldn't be there. I feel like Andy in Toy Story. I don't know why, cos that doesn't happen in those films. I just identify with him on a base level, I guess.

Above: Esmond and me, I guess.

Anyway, I'm now listening to 'When Somebody Loved Me' from Toy Story 2, and it's bumming me out so I'm gonna go. I have more adventures scheduled with the doctor this evening; let's hope it's more The Unicorn and the Wasp than Love and Monsters. 

The most pithy

There have been several hints today that I'm becoming, how to put this delicately?, acclimatised to the Rowden White. For example, all the computers now suggest my username in the drop box on Google (thankfully they do not suggest my password). Then, not only did the librarians immediately recognise me and remember my preference for PCs over Macs, but they even made a joke about my propensity to forget to pick up my card at the end- silly British guy. And, finally, to top it all off, when I typed 't' into the address bar, it immediately suggested 'TV Tropes' and then a list of all the tropes I've researched in my continuing battle to discover why life is less interesting than webcomics.
*Sniff* I feel so wanted!

In other news, I'm now part of a weekly writers' group that meets on Mondays, led by the eleventh doctor.

A deleted scene from 'The Doctor, the Widow and the Wardrobe', and indeed, the only bit where anything actually happened.

I think I'm at the forefront to become the next companion, being by far the most British, but there is a pretty Indian girl, and, affirmative action being what it is, it might be time to bust some kneecaps. And maybe dig out the bowtie Rosie made for me.


What else? I've become a minor celebrity in the ole Yarra due to my laureate-worthy musings; the upside, lots of people have told me I have a real talent and should write a book (so tempted to direct them to Darkwater library). The downside? Someone, who I don't know, came up to me in the kitchen yesterday and told- not asked, told- me to recite the same poem. I mean, I know I'm amazing and all, but try and control yourself, people.

P.S. Dan, your tree is coming- keep a weather-ear to the ground.