The Hilton run

Did some things, met some people, hacked some boxes, got a bit floor-bound.

All good stuff.

Was considering a skit in the old cyberpunk form, given I checked into a hotel on someone else's credit carrying ballistic nylon luggage that contained naught but black t-shirts, combats, a JG Ballard book and a complete intrusion toolkit... However, other than scoring untraceable wireless gear after hours in a poky neon-lit shop and then going for Japanese food in some corner of Chinatown, it was a relatively normal sort of a week. Well, vaguely normal. Perhaps I should call it the sort of normal up with which I could cheerfully put? Yes. That would be best.

Yet on the hand...

... The barley's well in ear, the land is both green and present and there's a good handful of church clocks standing at ten to three.

Whatever.

There is no 'there' there.