Month: April 2001

It’s true. I give up. I accept my fate. I am become (geek) god. How else can explain the cravings? Why else would this fill me with such drooling awe? For what other reason would my tongue moisten at the mention of #include <beer.h>? And Oh My God, look at all the pretty caffeine. It’s like the mothership is calling me home. [Tom also enjoys the theatre, novels, music, films, contemporary culture, philosophy and ancient greek tragedy. If you would like Tom as your sexual partner, please e-mail a photograph and (small) MP3 of your voice to: tom%40plasticbag.org]

I’ve talked about Grant Morrison‘s theories on the relationship between sunspot activity and youth rebellion several times before – but here is another article connected with it: “The Sun Does a Flip”. Again the eleven year cycle is mentioned, as is something called ‘Solar Max’, which we can only assume is a deity associated with rebirth and bloody irritating revelations. Hail Solar Max.

I confess. It was I that thought that Dan was a funny bastard. I do not, however, wish to rip his arms from their sockets. I have someone else in mind for that particular treatment.

Last night I found myself watching The Tailor of Panama with Nick H at the Odeon in Leicester Square. I’ve been celebrating my return from the brink of madness this weekend – I got paid on Friday and suddenly found myself safe from bankrupcy and able to pay the rent for another month. The sheer amount of relief that this has provided me is indescribable. I decided that I should use the opportunity to get myself functioning as a person again – to attempt to salvage my self-respect by any means necessary. So I went out for a drink and a meal with a few friends, sorted out my malfunctioning phone by trading it in for a new one, spent a Tower Records credit note I’ve had forever, and started trying to decide what clothes to buy for my ‘interview outfit’. The only thing that I’ve not been able to work on at all is my hair, which is fast becoming an obsession. I can’t look at someone in public at the moment without being aware of the fluffy mullet I’m developing.

But back to the film. There are a fair number of conflicting reviews about it in the media at the moment. One of my particular favourites is over at the BBC. I don’t agree with it, but it entertained me. In short, although the end of the film is a bit messy, it’s an extremely intelligent and entertaining movie, with an comedically corrupt feel to it, and some great performances. Go and see it, because it will piss off Middle America, and you know that’s always fun.

This evening I am proud to host the second Maida Vale post-work Buffy marathon, in which my source at Time Out will exchange new episodes for old, and where we shall once again talk about the full range of merchandise that litters the flat – from my box-sets to Mella’s Angel cut-out, posters, books and chocolate bars. We will also (with any luck) get to watch the episode about the death of Buffy’s mother that is discussed at considerable and intelligent depth over at Salon.com. The song said, “whatever gets you through the night, it’s alright”. But I think I can honestly state that Buffy helps me get through the days as well. And I don’t care how sad that sounds – I got a first class degree from a good university, did over three years of postgraduate work, delivered papers overseas, retrained as a journalist and worked for Time Out while running a series of relatively successful websites – and all by the age of twenty eight. My opinion should count for something goddammit.

Are you in a doomed dot.com start-up? [again from seethru]: “You’re one of the dotcom revolutionaries. It’s a career at the bleeding edge of new media. You’re well paid. You’re in demand. Everything’s rosy. But next week, will you be standing by the traffic lights, mopping windscreens with a damp chammy? You goin’ down, fool!”

The future, as I have said innumerable times before, is wank. My tirade against the mischaracterisation of non-reproductive sexuality has today come face to face with its antithesis – an evil that can only be called the National Wanky Homepage Cull. Be warned, they are coming for your sites this April 28th.

I think, all things considered that we must consider the first foray in the war to have been a complete success. I, certainly, had a lovely time. Although I did spend money, which is, you know, bad.

Quote: I ain’t happy, I’m feeling glad, I’ve got sunshine, In a bag, I’m useless, But not for long, The future is coming on. [link]

Apparently I write things that are quote-worthy. Not recently perhaps, but once. On photodude.com/weblog (a remarkably well designed site), there appear to be at least three seperate weblogs in operation. One of them – the quote log – is a great idea, and includes some real gems. Concealed amongst these gems lurks: “We’re all stuck here. We have no choice. We are logging automata – forced by the web to prostitute our writing skills day in and day out until we die. We shall write until we drop. Then we shall be boiled down into a black unctious liquid and people will use us for ink.” I said that, although I don’t remember where… Do you remember where?