plasticbag.org

This is almost impossibly close to an idea I once had and have never implemented. Mine was dirtier though.

Cut and Paste Culture: Ok – this is interesting. Or at least I think it’s interesting. Or more to the point, I find it interesting. Anyway – I have these two gorgeous computers on my desk – one’s a stunning PC, one’s a much more stunning iMac. And I often find myself trying to do things on the PC that can only be done easily on a Mac – like viewing .js files for example. On the Mac, you just open it in IE and it displays on screen. The default position for the PC seems to be to try and run it. Very annoying. So I’m working in Frontpage (don’t ask) on the PC and I have the javascript open in the browser window on the Mac, and I copy the chunk I want on the Mac, then turn around and pick up a different mouse and try and paste it into the PC. And it doesn’t work. And I look at the screen in blank astonishment. This has happened several times and every time I’m surprised.

So what I’m thinking is, when we cut or copy something from a computer, do we somehow think that we’ve picked it up physically? Or that we as individuals have kind of copied it to our individual head-space? Or am I just really lame?

I’m sorry, but really. What the hell is Google Answers all about?

Thoughts on the fronts of men’s trousers: Many trousers seem to me to be designed to work a little like cod-pieces. The rucking at the front is designed to give an impossibly ridiculous cock-like peak that clearly ISN’T cock, but by its presence distracts from bulges, shapes etc that could be considered cock-like. All men in the world can be divided into those who wear trousers that accentuate their cock or replace it with something larger, or those that wear trousers that manfully withhold themselves. It’s uncouth to take your cock out in public. Similarly, it’s vulgar to wear trousers that have a sole purpose of cock enhancement. Or such is my opinion…

Does this, or does this not, look like the Best Desktop Ever. There are benefits to this current job.

I went to see a studio flat today in Marylebone – probably it will be outside my financial limits, but it was astonishingly nice. Semi-separated kitchen and studio with lots of power-points and a long corridor down the side of the building towards the bathroom. Plenty of space for book-shelves down the corridor too. I was shown around by a strange tall birdlike woman – all rapid movements and nervous repetition. She started the tour by taking us to the back terrace garden – a wonderful, calm space unfortunately inhabited by a rather surprised half-naked fat old man with partly-scraped-back white-hair and a kind of tai-chi like serenity. “He’s probably a sitting-tenant,” said Bird Lady, “Probably been here for years….”

Overheard this morning – a woman confuses ‘backwards-compatible’ with ‘reverse-engineer’, and I wonder – should you have a license to use words as oneupmanship weapons? [Edited to add – could I possibly start a whole new Sarah Jessica Parker inspired column called ‘Geek in the City’ all about the tremendously amusing antics of new media workers in London. Or would that be totally lame? Vote lame!]

Can someone explain to me how I’m still at work at nearly eight in the evening, pissed on Pimms, working on templates for an internal work process interface for a project designed to make the BBC the best place in the entire goddam universe? Because frankly I’m drunk and not a little baffled by the whole thing…

“Dance for me disco monster! Dance!”

So tonight I said goodbye to Davo for the third time in three days, and it was just as difficult this time as it was all the others. I can’t imagine anything I want less than for him to leave the country. He will be terribly terribly missed.