Month: April 2001

The Stalker: [Game One] I will be at Farringdon tube at 1pm today. A prize to anyone who manages to take a picture of me without my knowledge.

In the 36 hours since the Barbelith Underground relaunched, the upgraded site informs me that it has generated around 20,000 page impressions. I had no idea.

Another unprompted e-mail arrives from Big. I’m completely fascinated by what might be going on in his head. On a related note I have decided that I don’t seem to have any healthy relationships with men which might develop into anything more interesting or long-term. I realised this was getting serious when I was resizing images of people who work at CABE, stumbled upon a picture of a fairly foxy bloke, and started wandering off into the furthest corners of my mind. [Anyone from CABE out there?] Anyway – it’s all come together to present only one solution to my current dilemma. I’m putting out an appeal to the world: Find me a boyfriend.

So after 2001 last night, my flatmate drove me eight-tenths of the way to Meg‘s house so I could sell her my printer. I was quite delighted by this since it meant I could either eat for another week or I could have a play with that excellent prostitute who has been scoping me out in Soho recently. Oh, hang on a minute. There’s something wrong there…

When I arrived, we regaled each other with tales of woe and frustration for a while, before our life crapulence one-up-man-ship palled. Then we had Thai food out of a silver packet and looked on in horrified silence at the film that Luke was watching. Every ten minutes I’d turn my stupified face away from Titus and towards Meg, at which point I’d ask quietly, “Is it just me that thinks this film is totally fucked up?!”. She merely rolled her eyes.

After a while even this new game palled, so we ran into Davo‘s bedroom, and I rolled around on his bed, and we smoked lots and let our minds run free like Caribou bouncing free across the plains of insanity. We talked of Tom Wopat and how rough he looked after quitting his long-running TV show, and how we weren’t entirely convinced by his new career choice. We had a listen to one of his country songs. Later, Luke did too, but he didn’t find it as funny as we did. We talked about the worst people in the world to cover Radiohead’s Karma Police. (I still put my money on Wizzard.) We determined that I was a feminist and that Meg was insane (scientifically proven fact). We ran and we danced among the flotsam and jetsum of out digital lives, scattering bon mots like candies to the poor and needy children around us. And we laughed and laughed until our lungs burst and we collapsed to the green grass – a camera above us, recording the satisfied, almost sexual, looks on our faces…

The I went home and watched television, reinstalled a web bulletin board and got to sleep about three-thirty in the morning. [Meg’s version of events]

Four Webloggers That I Definitely Would:

• Katy
• Matt
• Mo
• Mark

Is it normal to have a one hour interview for what might turn out to be at most three or four weeks of part-time freelance HTML work? Maybe I talk too much. Your opinion?

About a week ago, the Barbelith Underground finally gave up the ghost. But now it’s all fresh and new once more – reinstalled and virginal. Reintroduce yourself to the most creative politically futurist subcultural community on the web today.

24 hours too late: Disinfo acquired by AOL Time Warner
“In a surprise move that has already sent shockwaves through the Entertainment Economy, Disinformation Company Ltd publisher Gary Baddeley and creative director Richard Metzger have joined forces with their nemesis, AOL Time Warner, after months of secret negotiations. The media pranksters waited until April Fool’s Day to make their ironic announcement, which confused Disinfonauts, the company’s name for site visitors and their most valued customers.”

I watched American Beauty [] last night for about the tenth time. In its honour, I keep thinking that I should try to write about one thing that I find beautiful every day. Tonight I went to see 2001: A Space Odyssey at the Curzon Mayfair. My mother rang me during the intermission to ask me if I’d found a job yet. She worries. I reassured her that I had some freelance stuff going on. While I was on the phone, I glanced up at the sky. It was pale blue, with whisps of white shot through it. Across it was the jetstream of an aircraft. It picked up the light and shone like a laser.

I spent a good twenty minutes online with Matt Haughey on AIM yesterday, trying to work out what the French for a certain phrase was, and all the time I knew that the French had a particularly idiosyncratic interpretation of it – one that I just couldn’t quite remember. Luckily – he found someone who really did know what they were talking about.