Assorted bullshit about video games, language, music, and some other unabashedly personal shit. And maybe some stuff that's kind of funny? I don't know. I just don't fucking know, alright? Would you give me a fucking break? Jesus, Mom.
You can also find me:
I also write Britishisms, a blog about moving to the US, and Tuneage, a music blog I co-founded. I curate Give Me Something to Read. I started Word Journal, and I occasionally contribute to The Small Picture.
nostrich at quisby dot net
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First pang of regret about moving to the US came today: no Guy Fawkes Night!
No fireworks, no bonfires, no burning effigies of Guy Fawkes, no annual funfair, no toffee apples. No ridiculous traditional rhymes:
Remember, remember the Fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I know of* no reason
Why the Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.
Genuinely, Guy Fawkes Night is one of my favourite nights of the year, and I’m going to miss it.
But I’ll probably be having sex instead, so whatever.
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