Month: August 2001

Question: Why isn’t Chris Morris writing occasional articles for Time Out on Britain’s Best Bars?

So I’m sitting on the tube from Liverpool Street and I’m frantically looking around for a newspaper or something that someone has left behind to stop me having to read Premiere for the fiftieth time (note to editors – Elijah Wood is very cute and interesting, but he’s not hot-and-sweaty sexy, which makes pictures like this one less erotic and more, er, upsetting – like taking naked pictures of children – you know?).

Anyway – so I look around and I pick up a copy of the Wall Street Journal that someone had left behind. First feature I see? ‘Dot-Com Hubris Remains Undaunted’, which is basically an entire article about how weblogging is a way of networking and building career, concentrating on Dan Sanderson (I’d link to his site, but I can’t because for some reason it seems to be down) and tools like Blogger and Userland. You can’t go anywhere nowadays without having the American press talk about weblogs. They get it, even if their British cousins don’t. More to the point, it occurs to me that my weblogging experiences don’t seem to have got me any work. Bastards.

And now British Telecom appear to be cross with me for going away for the weekend. That’s the only way I can hope to explain the sheer level of connectivity problems that I’m just starting to have. Over the last twenty minutes I’ve been disconnected four times. That can’t be right.

Another month, and yet again more overusage charges for Barbelith. Looks like this month it’s going to be $25. Not a huge amount I suppose. That makes this month’s outlay on hosting $60. What’s that in real money? £40?

My computer keeps crashing today. I arrive home from Norfolk, sit in front of my computer turn it on – crash. I reboot, launch Outlook Express, wait a minute – crash. I reboot, launch IE and AIM, wait a minute. As yet no crash. I think it’s angry with me for deserting it for the whole weekend. I’m very sorry. Much as I might like to, I won’t do it again. Promise.

It was Simon’s birthday yesterday. Simon is cool. You will wish him a happy belated birthday from me. You will buy him presents, to express your love. You will plague him with offers of your body. You will beg him to allow himself to sate himself sexually upon you. Ok?

Sporadic updates for the Bank Holiday weekend as Tom proceeds to Norfolk to visit his family.

Is this the best weblog post on the internet at the moment?

“I am a white male, Caucasian, about five feet, nine inches. I weigh 150lbs. I have no visible marks on my body. I have no memory of any events prior to waking up in the hospital in November of 1999.” He sounds like a Classicist.

I’m very tired and fairly hassled, and some good friends of mine are having a party that I really want to go to, but simultaneously (because I’m going to Norfolk tomorrow and because I’ve been all around town, trying to cheer up friends, and because I’ve been dealing with the threat of burglary and the neighbours fixing their door and the police and the like) I would really rather stay at home, watch some television and try and get some work done for Danny – the guy I’m freelancing for at the moment.