Thursday, August 01, 2002
Wonderful. Just spent inordinate amount of time burbling about yesterday's interview (brilliant fun, lovely people, drinkable-ish beer), what percentage of my arse is likely to be visible through my Venetian blinds and the garden hedge and why I think Cameron Crowe had been consuming lotus-flavoured rose-tinted acid-floss for some time when he wrote 'Almost Famous', and of course it all gets mauled by some strange yet common (apparently) bug and lost forever. This place is a knife-edge and a tightrope and a bearpit for those of the techno-not-especially persuasion.
I was also having an internal - well, external, in fact - debate as to how much I'd be likely to reveal on here (I think that's where the arse/blinds/hedge interface came into it). All I decided thus far is that I'm probably going to stop somewhat short of the candour of this bloke at http://mowgil.com/journal/. Where is that handy 'click this to add a link if you're stupid and lazy' button? I can't be arsed to look for it. Tsk, education. I'll come back and right that wrong. When I can be bothered.
It's no wonder I haven't got a career.
(Three minutes later)
mowgil.com/journal
There. Now I can sleep the sleep of the righteous tonight, and halfway towards lunchtime tomorrow as well.
I was also having an internal - well, external, in fact - debate as to how much I'd be likely to reveal on here (I think that's where the arse/blinds/hedge interface came into it). All I decided thus far is that I'm probably going to stop somewhat short of the candour of this bloke at http://mowgil.com/journal/. Where is that handy 'click this to add a link if you're stupid and lazy' button? I can't be arsed to look for it. Tsk, education. I'll come back and right that wrong. When I can be bothered.
It's no wonder I haven't got a career.
(Three minutes later)
mowgil.com/journal
There. Now I can sleep the sleep of the righteous tonight, and halfway towards lunchtime tomorrow as well.
Tuesday, July 30, 2002
God, internet cafes are evil places. Row upon row of sweating creatures with impending headaches, clattering away to a wispy background of chart-friendly house. My nose is up against the screen. I have 27 minutes left and in order to get change to buy another ticket, I will have to purchase some rubbery muffin from the Nescafe Cafe. Big stern signs informing you that you consume food or drink not purchased on the premises under pain of death. In front of me sits a bottle of branded mineral water bought yesterday and refilled with tap water this afternoon. Does this make me exempt? Can sentence be imposed retroactively? Have they got people on patrol?
Anyway, what joy, my own little blog, which will doubtless be groaning under a mighty weight of absolute bollo in a couple of weeks. Providing I can get decent net access. And remember the few morsels of HTML I've picked up. 20 minutes. Hell. Perhaps I can stretch to a baguette. (That sounded rude, didn't it?) In the meantime, this is where I usually am. Lucky me.
www.playlouder.com (I just did that three times. Please work now. Please. Ta.)
Anyway, what joy, my own little blog, which will doubtless be groaning under a mighty weight of absolute bollo in a couple of weeks. Providing I can get decent net access. And remember the few morsels of HTML I've picked up. 20 minutes. Hell. Perhaps I can stretch to a baguette. (That sounded rude, didn't it?) In the meantime, this is where I usually am. Lucky me.
www.playlouder.com (I just did that three times. Please work now. Please. Ta.)
