Beware

I decided to go ahead with the Pecha Kucha event after all. I’d already prepared the presentation anyway, and various people I spoke to had advised me not to let the negative people in my life prevent me from having fun, so as a final act of self-humiliation I showed my life story to the assembled crowd. Apart from some inconsistencies between my 2007 version of PowerPoint and the version running on the host, it went well. There was a nice mix of styles too – from the merely frivolous and personal exposé (like mine), to the more esoteric searches for the truth of life – it was exactly what the organizers wanted. It was a good event and apparently, the first in this country outside London. We trailblaze.

In the meantime, I should like to thank the kind-hearted people who left encouraging comments on my previous blog entry – well, except for one who tried to disguise his duplicity by feigning consideration and support when he knew he was actually responsible for the whole thing. Nobody I know was fooled by that by the way, so it doesn’t really matter.

Tomorrow is what the Romans called the Idus Martiae – the day when the Libatores assassinated Julius Caesar (according to our old pal Shakespeare, at least), and a day when we are all meant to be prepared for some doom that might sneak upon us from the shadows. Well, I’m prepared for anything. Notwithstanding that I have a whole load of work to do today, and am probably deficient in the number of hours in which to do it (as usual), I’m up and running.

My friend Darmachari Jinaraja tells me that all suffering can be eased by meditation. That’s all very well, but I also learn that in meditation the state of sexual dimorphism is transcended. Who wants that? I like being a man – I might not fit easily in this skin but at least I don’t have to wear a bra and panties (there's probably more to being a woman than that, but you know what I mean).

And if anyone wants to approach me with a dagger in the night merely for scoffing a packet of biscuits (Et tu, Bruté? Response: “You ate the whole bloody packet, actually”) then I can defend myself. Bring it on, I’m stronger than I look.