Autograph

Yesterday was the first time somebody asked me for an autograph. Somehow some people had thought it was a good idea to launch a new barbeque restaurant with a fashion show. They paid me and gave me food and booze, so I wasn’t going to complain. Anyway, after the show was done and I was into my umpteenth beer this little girl comes up to me, must have been six or seven, and asked for my autograph.

So I slapped her.

Just checking if you’re still awake! I didn’t actually slap her. Instead I did what I was supposed to do and signed. There was about four or five other people that they had got signatures from, so it wasn’t as if I was that special; but it was still a new experience.

Apparently the fashion week has been a success, at least for me. I’m still waiting to see what the fall out will be, but people recognise me now, that’s for sure. Is this my fifteen minutes of fame?

I’ve taken to just assuming that it won’t maintain itself and enjoying it while it lasts. Of course, hopefully I’ll be able to make a bit of cash before it fades away completely, then on to Goa.

I really need to get back to the beach. I want to find myself a little beach hut by the side of the water and write about all the shit that’s been happening to me. I might well be able to produce something worth while. I’ve got a number of short stories that desperately need writing (except for sleep, the thing that has suffered most lately from my popularity has been my writing) and some time to recalibrate would be good.

Though, that said, I’m back on an upswing. The last two weeks were a bit down (everybody has those swings right? It’s just not me that’s nuts, is it?) but now I’m back in full force and enjoying life as much as I possibly can.

I wonder, if I read back over my blog, would I be able to spot those periods where I had my down swings and those periods where I was up and happy just by the language I use? I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.

The Day After

Yesterday was the last day of the IMFF and the last day of the first week of work I’ve done this half of 2007. It was a gruelling week. What got to me (and everybody else) the most was the standing around, waiting for people to decide where you go in the order, what clothes you should wear and if a shawl should or shouldn’t be added. The word modelling has lost its original meaning for most people, I think. To model means to stand as an example of how something would look.

We create models of the world to test our hypothesis. These models are then put up to stringent test and inspected from all corners to see if it holds true and gives an accurate representation of what it is trying to model. These models rarely complain because, for one thing, they are not sentient.

Unfortunately, when your model is a human being and you spend as much time looking at it, poking it and considering it, that human model often won’t appreciate it terribly much. People think that modelling is all glamour, parties and pictures. Most of modelling, however, consists of standing around and waiting for something to happen.

You don’t realise how tiring doing nothing can be until you’ve been forced to do it for five days.

Last night there was supposed to be a party to celebrate the ending of the fashion week. There was a frenzied, desperate pushing at the door with people trying to get in, screaming and generally acting like there was actually something worth seeing inside. There wasn’t, really. Just clumps of people standing around and talking, wondering why they had tried so hard to get inside in the first place. I think the negative energy of getting into the hall seriously affected the atmosphere, poisoning everybody’s mood before they had even arrived.

Then, at about 1 o’clock they police arrived and shut the entire party down. I had kind of expected that the party organisers would have been well enough connected to make sure something like that wouldn’t happen, but apparently they quite frequently have run-ins with the police, according to the rumours that have come my way.

As a whole the week was tiring, discouraging but definitely an experience I wouldn’t have like to miss out on

Fashion Week

It’s 10:40 in the morning and I’m sitting in a nearly deserted hall waiting for the day of fittings and choreography to start. Last night the show’s organiser yelled at all the models that they had to be on time, otherwise there would be some major repercussions. On time was forty minutes ago. Apparently the majority of the models didn’t take the threat very seriously. With good reason too, I might add. The show’s organiser isn’t here yet either.

I have been steadily coming later to these things. The first day I was here before the official time. The next day I was exactly on time. Yesterday I was fifteen minutes late and today I only took the rickshaw when the allotted time had come. I don’t like being late, but I also hate being forced to wait around.

These shows are an interesting combination of dreary boredom and frenzied insanity. For most of the day we either sit around, waiting to get called upon or standing around in designer’s outfits hating the fact that the designers are showcasing autumn and winter collections when it isn’t really autumn or winter yet.

Then, because the scheduling always goes to hell in a hand basket, in the last two hours of the show they try to get four hours of work done. This is normally the time they choreography of the entire show is done, so we generally don’t really know what the hell we’re doing. I swear, the woman that does the choreography will have to take a month long holiday just to recover from herding around sixty models; who all either have no experience or egos big enough to give cover from the rain.

It’s amazing that the shows work as well as they do. In front there’s models walking down a long white ramp, looking beautiful and composed. Behind there is only screaming, confusion and chaos. ‘Where’s my shoes! Where’s whatshisface? Where’s my beer!’ (Drinking, by the way, is a normal part of the shows. No complaints here!)

My noteworthy walk so far was for Levis. They didn’t want to showcase the jeans like they usually do, so they dressed up all of the strange gear. They gave me jeans, a leather apron and two knives (no shirt) and said ‘look menacing’. So I did. I thought thoughts of murder and destruction and let them all show on my face as I walked down the ramp. The effect was, apparently, quite something according to all the compliments I got afterwards. I must have looked like an absolute psycho, with a cleaver in one hand, a sharpener in the other and murder in my eyes.

Anyways, things have finally got going so I’ll leave you with that and I’ll be sure to update you all soon.

Of lies and power

I was weak, I was soft and I capitulated without getting what I want. What’s more, I know the guy that I was dealing with me was lying to me on probably at least two counts. I really need to become less nice to people, though admittedly I didn’t really want to lose this deal. Through this I’ll hopefully get the necessary ‘cred’ to not have to capitulate in the future.

I’m still finding it very hard to deal with all the lying around here. I’m getting a bit better at spotting it, but being so bloody honest myself (often to a fault) I often just take other people’s words at face value. I guess that’s an important lesson for me to learn.

Almost everybody seems to lie. It’s an expected characteristic, I think. I wonder what they think of me always telling the truth? Maybe they think I’m an idiot. Yet I’m still of the opinion that honesty is the best policy. If people know they can trust what I say then they will be more likely to depend on me, rather than on somebody whom they can’t trust.

Being caught in one lie is enough to destroy your credibility. After that people will always wonder if you’re telling the truth, never really forgetting that you already lied at least once. So if you’re going to lie, lie so that nobody catches you! That’s a pretty pessimistic piece of advice, isn’t it?

‘The devil will tell a thousand truths to make you believe one lie’ (not sure where that’s from)

I’ve been learning a lot of pessimistic advice recently. I’ve read ‘The 48 laws of power’ and I don’t think you can find a more pessimistic book about utilising power as that one. It’s right up there with Machiavelli’s ‘The Prince’ (it actually often quotes it, as a matter of fact).

Still, I advise the book. It’s got a lot of good ideas, even if you chose not to utilise all of them. An interesting thing is, I initially rejected quite a few of them, but then later on realised that the writer was probably right and I was probably wrong.

So do I actually want power? I’m not sure, but I’d sure like to have the skill set available to take it if I find out I do.

The story continues

I haven't written in a long time, have I? Nothing really to report. The last week has been very busy, if not that useful. Went to a lot of parties and for some reason they all sucked. Probably to make up for last week, where we had a weekend of parties that were absolutely phenomenal.

I'm finally getting some writing work. I'm writing the newspaper stories for a local fashion event (I offered to help the organizer) and last night somebody asked me to quote him a price to write the content for his web page. For some reason, people over here seem to assume that I'm capable, purely because I'm social and self confident.

The same dude was even talking about if I stuck around that he'd like me to possibly help coordinate his models for his company. He doesn't have any yet, but he he thinks he can start a successful agency over here. I told him the offer was interesting, but that we should take everything one step at a time. First, let's see how the writing thing goes and after that we'll take a look at if we want to work together more in the future.

So far the dude hasn't impressed me much. He hasn't called back when he was supposed to and has generally been flighty. According to the word around town that's because he's really busy. That's an explanation, but far from an excuse in my book.

The IMFF (Indian Men's Fashion Festival) is starting in a few days time. I'm supposed to be walking it and it was supposed to be my great debut. There is now a question, however, about whether I'll be walking it at all. It's through my provocation and I don't regret the provoking, but it would pretty much be the end of my modelling career here in Bangalore. Oh well, so be it. I never saw it as much more than a bit of fun and a way to make money.

Maybe I'll just hit the road again if it doesn't work out. Continue on my journey and take all the experiences and lessons learned as my prize for the price I've paid (cash wise, experience wise my time here has been brilliant).

I'll get back up here soon and tell you all how this cross road in my life has resolved itself.

Expectations

I seem to have created a bit of a reputation. I’m the guy who’s come into town only a short while ago, but knows everybody, is always full of positive energy, drinks like a fish and dances like a madman. I’m the guy who you see at every happening party and who raises the energy level through his exuberance and attitude. I am the guy that everybody wants to be around.

Somehow my reputation has way outgrown the actual me. It’s a bit intimidating, actually. When I’m tired and not full of energy, people ask me what is wrong. When I bend down to tie my shoe laces the DJ tells me to get back up. When I go home early to get some sleep, people call me up to ask if I need to talk.

When I’m in a good mood, that’s brilliant; their very expectation creates a self-fulfilling prophecy. They expect me to have good energy, therefore walk up to me with good energy themselves, thereby infecting me with their energy in turn; which then helps to perpetuate the cycle. When I’m in my downtime, on the other hand, and just want to spend a bit of time by myself to philosophize and incorporate all the new things that I’ve learned into my psyche, it can become a drag to constantly have to sit with everybody, great everybody and meet everybody (especially since I don’t remember half of their names!).

I’m also just not used to this much attention. It’s a bit freaky, to go from having only a few real good friends in Singapore and almost nobody else, to having this huge social network that I somehow have to maintain.

I’m secretly expecting the entire thing to implode on me. When the novelty of the new kid in town wears off and people realise I’m not quite as amazing as they make me out to be, things will doubtlessly change.

Unless, of course, I actually am the person everybody makes me out to be. That is, however, a thought I don’t want to tackle just yet. I’d rather just live with the idea that it will end (and therefore enjoy it all the more) so that if it does I won’t be too scarred and if it doesn’t, well then I’ll recalibrate my thoughts at some future time, when I’m more certain of the course of my social life.

Applied Body Language

This weekend I experimented with body language. I’ve been studying it for a while now, but this weekend I really focused on reading other people’s body language and giving out the right body language myself. The effect, to put it mildly, has been tremendous. Being able to understand what somebody else is thinking before they say something, or what they really mean when they are saying it can have a huge effect on rapport building. What’s more, by consciously working on my own body language I not only influence other people’s reactions, but also my own mood.

So my piece of advice for today (I’ve got a lot of advice, I admit) is to pick up a body language book and try to internalise the information inside. It will honestly make a world off difference to you and people’s reactions to you.

That’s not terribly convincing in and of itself, so I think I’ll give you some examples to think about.

1) Last night we were standing in a club, when a young man walked over that none of us particularly liked. In one sentence, he tries to hard and in that way really gets on everybody’s nerves. We didn’t want him to be a part of our group, but we didn’t want to be rude and tell him to fuck off. So, instead, the guy and I who were talking closed off our communication circle (he’s studying body language too) and within five minutes he had taken the non-verbal cue and walked away to bother somebody else.

What do I mean with ‘closed off our communication circle’? Okay, normally when you’re talking to a person you stand at about a 45 degree angle to them. This is natural and creates a triangle, with two points taken and the third point free. Anybody that walks up to the triangle will naturally take the third point, thereby making a complete triangle. If the people are happy with that person there, they will continue to stand in the same way and the conversation continues.

If, on the other hand, they don’t want the person there they turn towards each other, facing each other full on. This is a much more intimate (or intimidating if the people don’t know each other very well) way of standing. It informs the third person, subconsciously, that he or she is not welcome and unless they are complete social morons, they will quickly pick up on that and bugger off. This actually works.

2) Your body language conveys your mood and how comfortable you are in a situation. How comfortable you are in a situation in turn influences how important people think you are in a room. Therefore, the more comfortable you appear in a situation, the more important people will think you are. Closed body language (folded arms, head tucked down, folded legs, etc.) makes you come across as defensive and uncomfortable. People will not approach you and will think you are of lower social standing. Open body language (open arms, legs apart, taking up extra space and head tilted straight or tilted back) conveys you are comfortable and as a result will make people think you are more confident, more approachable and of higher social status.

What is more, when you do this you actually end up feeling more comfortable! You will find yourself speaking more and being more accepting of other people’s moods and ideas. Your mind doesn’t just influence your body, but your body also influences your mind.

3) Where you sit at a table actually influences your status in the group your in. What is more, it will impact how you sit. Sitting with your back to a wall will make you more comfortable than sitting with your back to an open space. When you are more comfortable, you take on more comfortable body language. With your back to an open space, on the other hand, you will feel more defensive as you’re not sure what is approaching behind you. This will close you off, which again will impact how much you talk and how people see you. The best place to sit is at a table is at the head, with your back to the wall. The worst place is at a side with your back not only towards an open space but also an exit.

Next time you’re sitting at a table just watch who speaks most. Interestingly, you will find that those in the more comfortable positions will speak more and you can actually make a shy and quiet person become more talkative and (vica versa) a loud person quieter by putting them in these types of positions.

That’s just three little things that I haven’t only read about, but actually seen in action over the last few days. This stuff works. If you don’t believe me, try it. Then go out and buy yourself a body language book!

Black and White

There was a book that I saw in the book store the other day called ‘social vampires’. The cover said that it was concerned with those people in your life that drain you of positive energy. People that are like energy sinks, just bringing people down with their very presence and their attitude. I didn’t pick it up because I thought I didn’t have any such people around me. Last night I realised I was wrong.

There is this one person who is exactly that. You might know these these types of people; they are determined to pull everybody around them into the same quagmire of unhappiness and discontentment, because they are too stubborn and stuck in their ways to find their own way out. This is the type of person who will constantly tell you how to lead your life, when you know you’ve got things sorted out better in your own head than they do.

They are convinced they have the right answers when you can see that the answers they’ve got aren’t satisfying them or leading to any type of happiness or self-fulfilment. I think what I’ve noticed with these types of personalities (and I’ve met a few I now realise, thinking back) is that they don’t understand that there are actually other versions of reality that are just as right as their own. It’s their way or the highway.

Last night I chose the highway. Bugger buying that book. Why spend 5 US when there is a much simpler way to deal with these types of people? Avoid. ‘Give me maximum warp, Scotty, we need to outrun this monster!’ I’ve worked too long and too hard at improving my internal world to let some semi-stranger come along and try to disrupt it. I am not a councillor, I can’t prescribe medication and frankly I’ve got much more interesting and better people around me to devote my time and attention to.

So late last night I finally walked out, along with most of the rest of the group, and we instead went and had tea in the lobby of hotel. Sounds like a strange thing to do in the wee hours of the morning, but when choice is limited you’ve got to make do with what ever comes along. (Remember, the clubs and bars close here at 11:30)

It was amazing how the mood changed after that. We sat around and cracked jokes about everything and the kitchen sink (especially each other) and ended up spending numerous hours in hysterics. I’m sure the people in the hotel thought we were high on something, but if any of us were they didn’t have the decency to share it with me. There was tea of course, and cigarettes and down in the car a premixed bottle of vodka-coke that we frequently nipped out to sip, but for the rest it was just about timing, tone and delivery.

In the end we tried to slip off with a real feather boa that had been found on the premises. We tried distraction, bullying, bribing, begging; in short we tried everything but violence (and that’s just because they took away our cutlery). They wouldn’t let us take it, however. It was, apparently, property of the hotel. My bet was that it had been left there by some other guest and they’d just decided it looked good on one of the shelves. From forgotten and ownerless party wear it was somehow converted into hotel property just by the act of long-term association. Well, we’ll just have to be more sneaky next time.

I got in at 6:30 this morning, which I think is quite an achievement considering the clubs had closed seven hours earlier. All-in-all a good night with two important lessons that I kind of already knew, but it is always good to have reinforced: ‘Sometimes just walk away’ and ‘If they haven't told you you can't, don't ask them if you can’.

The Power of Interest

I don’t know when it happened, but I think one of the biggest changes that has happened inside me over the last few months has been that I’ve started to really like and become interested in people. I’m sure that this isn’t the only reason that I’ve had such a positive response off late (maybe I just fit better with the Indian people than with the South East Asians) but I believe that it has played a major role.

With every person I meet I try to show a genuine interest in them. This isn’t pretend, either, this is honest interest and overwhelmingly people have responded well to it. I think most people are too busy in their own heads to give their full attention to the people around them. Therefore, when somebody does do that people feel special. it’s a bit like shining a spotlight on them and giving them centre stage.

Of course, not everybody is interesting. I’ve met a great deal of people that I’ve come to realise I have nothing in common with and not surprisingly I do lose interest in them; but the key is that they have my interest from the start and it is theirs to lose.

For every single person in this world there is one thing that interests them above all others and that is themselves. A person can never get out of their own head. They are permanently in there and everything they do, see and feel is always in relation to their own experiences. When you take an interest in them you focus on what they think about and care about the most. Naturally, they are going to appreciate that.

Can this type of interest be faked? It probably can be, but I think you’ll find that as you try to fake it you end up actually feeling it. When you properly manage to connect with another person (or establish rapport with them, as it’s called in the official jargon) you can’t help but enjoy it and when somebody truly enjoys the company of another person, that second person feels complemented on a subconscious level. It starts a positive feedback loop that ends up really enhancing both people’s day (if not lives).

I find that my life has been greatly enhanced by the huge number of people I call friends over here. Just their company would be enough, but that is far from all they give. They help me when ever they can, they bring me to places and let me experience things that otherwise I wouldn’t have experienced and they introduce me to ever more people with whom I can then start the whole process again.

That’s the great thing about being likeable; people actually want to introduce you to their friends as your friendship reflects well on them. Therefore I suggest that if you want to meet more people you try to take a real and active interest in the people you already meet. In that way you’ll soon find your social circle expanding and your social interactions being fuller and more enjoyable than they ever were before.

Chugging along

I would like to say that Cochin was great, but I have no idea. I was basically only in the hotel, the pub or being driven between the two. I did have a blast, though. The show was fun (nice people) and the party after was even better. I think the free piss might have had something to do with that, of course.

I met a ton of people and yet again they were positive, receptive and generally friendly. One guy was even talking about bringing me back down for a photo shoot. We’ll see if that one pans out as well.

The trip down was a little odd, as we had a mother of one of the many girls with us and she was one of those people who unfortunately wants to teach everybody how to live their lives. I think it’s rather interesting that a person who’s never been on one of these trips before thinks they have a better idea of how things should be done than the other dozen people who all have been in the industry for the longest time.

Back, on the other hand, was great. We were eight of us (me and seven girls) which, as you might be able to guess, was highly enjoyable at least for me. My room (which I had shared with one of the stylists) had been used both as a place for make up and a place for pre-drinks (as in the drinks that are consumed before the show. A brilliant idea that certainly makes you think the show went a lot more smoothly than if you hadn’t drunk). The result was that there was still a whole bottle of vodka that hadn’t been drunk. Wasting is, of course, a sin; so I felt it was my Atheist duty to finish the bottle.

12 hours go a great deal quicker when you’re surrounded by beautiful women and have vodka in your belly (making the women all the more beautiful). I don’t think I stepped on too many toes, except possibly for the other people staying in the carriage who were trying to sleep.

So yes, everything is still a sweet dream. We’ll see how long it lasts, but I’m going to enjoy it while it does.

Unique

Two nights ago was unique. I’ve met this guy down here, who’s wild, crazy and a little bit insane; a great deal of fun, in other words. We were sitting around in the local coffee joint with yet another friend (a woman from Italy who works in the IT industry, though you wouldn’t guess that until she told you) and it was a dry day. In most countries that means no rain, but over here that means no booze - a very difficult situation to be in for at least two of us.

Suddenly the bloke had the good idea of going up to these hills (I can’t remember the name). ‘It feels,’ he said, ‘like you’re at the edge of the world.’ Now, that was something we had never felt before, so we readily agreed. We didn’t know, at that point, what we were agreeing too. We walked to the car to pick up supplies (warm clothing, smokes, chocolates, etc.) and found that the lights had been left on.

That, of course, meant that the battery was flat (it always does. You’d think they would have made batteries that could last a while longer with the lights on) and that, in turn, meant we had to push. Finally all the working out in the gym was good for something! It took two tries (the first time he let the engine stall, which was quite naturally met with cries of great enthusiasm) but then we were off.

We passed the guy’s house, but he’d left his keys at his friend’s place, so we were forced to just admire it from outside, without picking anything up from there. That wasn’t such a great thing, because the hills were supposedly cold, but we were still full of good spirit, so we just headed on.

We drove down to the country, visited a banyan tree that you could park inside, tried to have a cigarette there but were thwarted in that attempt as we had no fire. No matter, on we went.

Then we ran out of gas.

I was quite impressed with how well everybody took it. We all just looked at each other (a little bit more at the guy that was driving) and then got out and made our way to the gas station. We filled a sprite bottle with gas, made our way back and continued on our way.

It was an hour long drive, in which we chatted, smoked and braked suddenly for speed bumps that would loom up out of the darkness (the highways over here have speed bumps. No, I’m not quite sure what to think of that either.)

We made some detours, on purpose, and then the Italian lady had a paranoia attack. Not a pretty thing to have happen to you when you’re speeding through the darkness with two guys you barely know in a country you know even less well and after having smoked a nearly pure joint of the strongest stuff. Actually, now that I come to think of it, those things might have had something to do with it.

Some gentle words and slow driving later and she got over it. At which point a cat jumped onto the road in a desperate attempt to commit suicide. Or maybe it just didn’t understand the laws of physics about force, reactions and all that kind of stuff. We hit it and went back to check where it was. It wasn’t there anymore. Fortunately its attempt had failed and it had scampered, or possibly hobbled, off into the darkness.

The mood was still surprisingly good and we soon made it to the top of the hill. It was about 2 am at this time and the hills were completely covered with the thickets of mist. You really couldn’t see past three meters.

For a time we just sat, talked and smoked. Then others arrived (whom we initially didn’t know) and soon what had just been three people talking turned into nearly ten people jamming to music, quibbling with each other and generally having a blast. I’m ashamed to say that the three of us drank easily as much as the rest of the people combined, but we did have a reputation to uphold (or create).

Then dawn came and we were allowed into the park. There we reached the edge of the world. It was, in true Indian style, a cliff which was hard to see in the mist, with no guard rails. It was called ‘the suicide point’ and I thought it was very nice of the authorities that they had not tried to hold back those people that might want to do that name justice.

It was an amazing view. The mist was thick as soup and ended just beyond the edge of the cliff. The sounds were muffled and the wind whipped and chased around us, pushing the fog this way and that. On a high from the drugs, drink, company and altitude we each sang a song on our own, into the mist from the bottom of our souls. It was simply amazing.

Coffee in a little tea house, accompanied by omelettes and bread. Then back into the car to bead back to Bangalore. Both of them were supposed to show up for work that day. Neither of them made it. We actually only got back in at 11 am. By that time I had well and properly passed out in the back seat.

I was told that after he had dropped us off he had discovered that the wobbling that had started on the way back turned out to be a flat tire.

Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong; but it just made the trip that much more brilliant. Hardship on the journey makes the it all that much more special.

The Moment

I don’t know if I mentioned this, but this weekend I get to travel to Kochin in Kerala for free, stay in hotel there for free and get to party for free after I do a fashion show for which I’ll get paid. Pretty sweet deal, huh? It will be my third show in India (I did another one yesterday, which wasn’t that much fun, but alright.) That number will soon explode upwards, as I’ve got a fashion week to walk and so far it seems like people’s response to me has been pretty good, as I’m supposed to walk quite a few shows.

I’m still waiting for my first shoot, though. That’s where the real money and fun are at. And then I can finally show (some of) you some pictures!

I’m still having a great time. Except for a couple of hours in the gym every day (well except for yesterday, because of the show and today because it being a public holiday) and the occasional show, I really don’t have to do terribly much. Somehow, though, I still manage to fill up every minute of every day without getting bored.

I think it’s the huge number of people I’ve met and that want to hang out with me. I’m still mystified about what has changed so drastically to make so many people react so positively to me.

I was invited to dinner at the house of one of the head chefs of one of the big hotel chains here in Bangalore and he told me ‘every one of my friends likes you, every one.’ He likes me too (slightly too much, I’m afraid). Don’t worry, there were other people at the dinner as well.

Another guy from Dubai who’s a stylist there has said that I should come up there and even offered to get me a ticket at some point, so that I could work down there (though admittedly he wasn’t exactly sober at the time, so I don’t know if he’ll either remember or act on that memory).

What ever the reason for it though, I seem to be meeting a ton of people and they all seem to want to meet me again. Tonight I’m meeting a gentleman who throws the parties in the clubs three to four times a week (and now greets me very warmly and always waves me right in, past the ques and – more importantly – the cashier’s counter). He might be able to give me some writing work down here as well. That would be excellent, as then I’d be doing yet another thing I love.

Life is good. I hope I manage to keep it that way.