What a Good Boy am I.

It’s a Friday night, like many before. Usually there’s something to do…something that takes us away from the workweek drudgery or the incessant inundation of class-time and study. Some nights there’s lots to do – too many events and gatherings to choose from, and one must split himself between them or pray for immense leaps in the local cloning industry to facilitate attendance at any and all.

But tonight there was just one thing happening, and I decided to take a small break from the punishing deadline ahead…to lay the Jacobite army down for just a short while and come back to the present, where I can breathe clearly and enjoy being in the Here and Now. So I hid all the pixelated windows that beckoned me back to the desk with two deft clicks of my finger, and, mess of dreadlocks sprouting like a sheaf of fuzzy, black-and-purple wheat, I bounded down the cobbles to meet a group of pleasant people at our local Digs.

Some were already there, and more would come. It rarely matters that I don’t know everybody, because the new ones are wonderful to me every time. And there we were, discussing our shiny, new LJ avatars, university projects, and the bevy of bodacious broads just across the room from us. About ten people tonight, and more piled in as words drifted like the tendrils of acrid smoke from countless cigarettes in the tips of everyone’s fingers.

On the tips of everyone’s tongues are the usual conversations, giggles, and liquor-soaked ice-cubes that just a moment before had been floating without anchor in myriad glasses strewn across the table. It’s ten o’clock now – one for every person present. And we’re in a warm pub on a cold Edinburgh Friday night, and even amidst the laughs and cheers and clouds of secondhand smoke that we gladly suck down for the privilege of cultured friendships, I know that I have to get back to my work.

It doesn’t stop me from having a good time, or from enjoying seeing the people whom are my newest friends, and who make me smile by telling me that the new icon doesn’t look like me…but rather *I* look like *it*. I laugh again and express my pleasure at seeing a proliferation of little animated heads on my computer screen (that waits patiently back at home) of people whom I know implicitly, and whom I don’t even have to ponder to figure out who they represent. It’s like we’re all living in a fun, little ToonWorld.

I bet there is no Jacobite army in ToonWorld.

So now we get a round of FREE Sambuca. Yes, it’s FREE. And yet I choose not to partake. That, I fear, even Christ would have fallen for. But my discipline is good…at least better than that of the JACOBITE ARMY. One pint, lots of friendly handshakes and hugs, and many promises to come out when this soul-sucking, glorified version of a historical anecdote is finished. Discipline.


Foool-isshhhh-nneesssss. I should get bombed. Enjoy a Friday with all my chums. Blank out halfway through and do silly things that I get razzed about on the following afternoon. I should…but I don’t. I get up, collect my things, say a few fond goodbyes, and head off back up the auld streets to the Pagan Icon of All Things Good. The computer has missed me, and it bids me a pleasant “welcome home” as I slide mercilessly into that familiar, shaped-to-my-butt, Ikea £29 special. This is home. I mean, for the next two weeks, at least.

And with a single pint only of beer on my breath, I fall back into 1745. I bet they were all drunk, too.

Just another Friday night.

3 Responses to “What a Good Boy am I.”

  1. nickys Says:
    February 27th, 2004 at 8:18 pm

    > I fall back into 1745. I bet they were all drunk, too.
    I presume you've heard the story about them all playing golf on the Links instead of going to drilling practice when the Jacobite army was in Edinburgh?

  2. FunkyPlaid Says:
    February 27th, 2004 at 8:23 pm

    Who? My friends? 🙂
    I have looked at many of the order books of the Jacobite army while ensconced in Edinburgh, and my current project is an examination of their behaviour during that time. If you're referring to the soldiers themselves doing this, I imagine that's an apocryphal story.
    But it's a good one, nonetheless.

  3. blu_matt Says:
    February 27th, 2004 at 9:58 pm

    Yes, you were incredibly restrained, and missed a few quite odd conversations (probably for the best, to be honest!) 😉

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