So, by this time on Tuesday I’ll be in flight over the Atlantic Ocean bound for California. I can’t claim to be excited, mainly because I think my primitive brain can’t process how excited I actually am, and has instead suggested I instead feel slightly blithe about it all. I have holistically packed (which is to say I haven’t packed a thing, but I’ve thought about it), and all my documentation is in place, so all I have to do is get through an Old Firm weekend and I’ll be all set.

I don’t know what this trip is going to be like; I can’t wait to see Ru and Matt again, but I’m apprehensive about my detours to Yosemite and New York. I hope it’s as good as it promises to be and I don’t let my own insecurities fuck it up. It’s the kind of holiday I’ve always wanted and aspired to go on; I’m going to assimilate some culture while I unwind and I’m getting to experience some minor things that wouldn’t appeal to other people but which excite me; flying in a jumbo jet for one, and landing in JFK.

Until then I have other things to occupy my mind. Rangers and Celtic meet at Ibrox tomorrow at lunchtime, fresh from rumours of Celtic fans being investigated for alleged sectarian singing in Barcelona. This, given the circumstances and taken in context, is hilarious. But only in a bitter, phyrric way. Anyway, I have to finish the song I said I’d record for Ru’s wedding, so I’m going to concentrate on that while I have the house to myself.

And on Sunday I’m meeting Kev to make beautiful music. Wait, hang on, that can’t be right. No, we’re going to stand in a converted warehouse and clang guitars at each other. That’s it. We’re supposed to be starting a band, but as there are only the two of us at the moment, we’re struggling to find enthusiasm for the endeavour. Still, we shall have a blast and see what arises. I hope to find some inspiration in the U.S. to be honest; I still like to think of myself as a musician, a writer and a photographer despite my limited success in each field, but I’ve found recently I’ve been bereft of inclination if not ideas. I was looking through some of my novel ideas in work earlier, and I was quietly pleased with some of them; if I can then work them up, I might have something…but not now. Just now, my creative bent is actually snapped in two. I want to write and photograph things, I just can’t be bothered. I blame work.

And I was thinking about Her last night. Yes, Her. You’d forgotten about Her, hadn’t you? I thought I had too. After that business with Michelle last year, She kinda vanished from my horizon for a while. But now She’s back. From outer…no, I’m not going there. This situation has basically arisen because I’ve been watching ‘The Big Bang Theory’ on C4 on and off, and it starts Kaley Cuocco. Now, I’ve watched, and coveted, her in both 8 Simple Rules and Charmed, but I’ve never thought she particularly resembled Her. But in Big Bang, for some unknown, soul torturing reason, she does nothing but remind me of Her. A sensible person would just stop watching the programme; while it’s cute, it’s not that funny. But maybe I’m more of a masochist than I’d like to confess…