SF writer Gary Gibson

So the current situation is I'm taking time out from the day job, at least for several weeks and possibly longer, depending on how things work out with the back problem. In a way this is a huge relief, since the day job was getting worse and worse - and that's partly my own fault, since it was only ever meant to be a temporary gig that got stretched out ad infinitum because I got a book deal and wanted some kind of moderate income whose hours didn't interfere with the creative process. Meaning, more time to stare out the window or type furiously.

All in all, though, I had a pretty good weekend; quite a few friends were around at different points, and I even received a couple of incredibly nice - and unexpected - gifts from friends which rather makes up for the whole can't-move-without-pain-oh-crap- how-do-I-pay-the-mortgage-now thing (but don't worry, I'm hard at work getting that one sorted out).

From H/al (who is now obsessed with the magnetic darts board in my kitchen): a DVD of Nathan Barley, a Channel Four tv series itself inspired by a website. Vicious, vitriolic satire of the nastiest and funniest kind. Dan Ashcroft, a writer on a 'popular culture' magazine, hates his job and the 'cool people' he finds himself surrounded by on the not unreasonable predication that a lot of them are rich kids running pointless media companies entirely financed by their parents with a nonexistent screenplay permanently in development.

Let me tell you, I feel empathy with Dan Aschroft, from my time working on a music magazine nobody, but nobody has ever heard of. Don't ask it's name, because you won't have heard of it. Really, you won't. Let's. Just. Not. Go. There.

From Phil and Jane; Yes, Virginia, a cd by the Dresden Dolls, which is quite wonderful, especially for the lyrics. If you want to know why ninety percent of musicians should never be allowed to voice a political statement, let alone any meaningful statement of any kind, read their lyrics. They're shite, all of them. They're just meant in most cases to sound marginally more interesting than going 'la la la' for three and a half minutes, during which intrinsically vacuous statements gain a sense of false emotional import by means of having a backing track.

The Dresden Dolls, however, do not appear to suffer from this nearly as much as most. I'm not saying they necessarily always make sense, but at least they make me laugh out loud.

These weren't the only things I received by far, but they were all equally cool. One thing it was nice to receive was a large (and I mean large) print by a good photographer friend of mine, Leanne Hopper, which means I now have something to go on my wall which could actually be described as original art. How cool is that?

Now it's back to the week and, frankly, I have a shitload of forms and financial stuff to get sorted out, so if you'll excuse me ...