So, my machine is called Camelot. My iPod is called Astolat. If I had a laptop I suspect it would be called Caliburn (thats Excalibur for those medievalists out there). My point is, I am an Arthurian obsessive. I hide it, possibly better than my little known Mortal Kombat/Tekken adoration and deffinately better of late than my cardboard crack addiction. Somebody recently in a slightly scary display of observancy said I hid things in plain view. I take issue with that, I maintain most people don’t look at other people (I include myself in that you know). Plus, when do I get the chance to talk about Arthur… well actually, outside of Pagan Soc meetings (when I first met my Gentleman Friend and bubbled over about Arthur) not a lot…so that generally means mostly concentrating on the religious stuff, a little less on the history and a lot less on the literature. So if someone, accidentally or on purpose pushes my ‘Arthur’ button I spill over with it, all sorts of facts and information that is totally random and all over the place.
I’m thinking of going back to writing my Arthurian fantasy novel, I started it in my angst-ridden adolescence (as is customary or possibly mandatory) but it’s actually pretty well researched. I think I might even be able to get a new take on the stories out over it…unlikely to get published, even in the states but could be a lot of fun to write.
Another thought occured to me as I did the tarot workshop at Pagan Soc today. I talk about magic like it was science and science like it was magic. Not only that but when I communicate with people I often choose precisely the wrong way of doing it. The ammount of tripped out slightly hippy pagan/magician types who have been annoyed by my definate and logical discussion of whatever magical theory they were into is only really equalled by the amount of rational sciency types who have been annoyed by my mystical and psychic discussion of whatever logical explanation they were espousing at the time.
I think maybe I spend my whole life trying to annoy my father.
I think maybe going out with a Freudian was a bad plan. Jung! Jung! Where are you?!