“Yeah, yeah, the market’s crashing and everybody’s fucked but there’s still a chance for someone with a bright idea to make a million. Isn’t there? Here are ours…” Seethru‘s ideas for making yourself an internet millionaire – pay attention Mr Stone (you know who you are).
Although the description of this article might seem slightly hyperbolic (Scientists obtain their most precise measurement of the difference between matter and antimatter, and explain why the Universe exists.) – the fact that scientists have now manage to determine why the creation of matter and anti-matter at the birth of the universe did not result in complete mutual annihilation remains astonishing.
I’m beginning to hate the way that I shave in the morning and look like comedy magnet / iron-filing beard toy by the middle of the evening. This never used to happen. And I still have my facial bald patches. What the fuck is that about?
Evening with Matt drives me into bizarre frenzy as usual. Feel weirdly psyched for an hour or so afterwards. Like I should beat someone up or something. Head full of nodes and connections and synonyms. Painfully slowly parts of head not used for years kick into gear.
I was listening to Xfm at work this morning when a news announcer starts speaking in a voice normally reserved for the death of a member of the royal family. “Michael Stipe,” he says, “is gay.” The world reels in shock at this announcement. “Surely not!” the cry is heard, “He always seemed so alive.” ThisIsLondon.com has the full absence of story.
9.45am: Take vitamin supplement pill. Light cigarette. Leave flat. Walk towards Maida Vale tube. 10.00am: Pick up yogurt drink at Baker Street, and change for Circle Line to Farringdon (back at Arehaus for a few days). Board train. Burp loudly. Feel slightly rough. 10.10am: Exit train, start sweating. Cross the road towards Bleeding Heart Yard. RUN into side street. Vomit for ten minutes, shoes / trouser-legs covered. Vomit is grey. 10.20am: Arrive at work. Build frameset for contact pop-up window.
E-mail to Kerry: “I was taking a group of foreign tourists to LA, one of whom had a tiny tiny Alien Baby. And they didn’t speak English very well and hadn’t organised a place to stay. So I had to ring you up and ask if I could bring them for the evening (there were like 16 of them), and you said yes, and I came, and when you were out of the room I pounced on Sean, and then Sean told you that I’d pounced on him, even though it seemed like he quite enjoyed it at the time and you went NUTS and threw us all out on the street. And you lived in this kind of Scooby-Doo like haunted mansion. FUCKING WEIRD, HUH?”
Thoughts and Reflections on Friday Night:
My last day at Avondi filled me with a strange mix of relief and anxiety. Incidental contract jobs are never tremendous fun – you don’t have a lot invested in them, and they don’t have a lot invested in you. But nonetheless, it is money. And when your source of money goes away, well the fear starts up again.
Well, to counteract the fear – and extend the weekend – after a quick trip home I met up with two gay friends of mine, John W and Nick H and we went to see Broken Hearts Club. This was a pleasant surprise – a gay film that didn’t get too maudlin, didn’t deal too much with coming out and managed to deal with the thing I’m most interested in at the moment – the community of friends that you do or don’t develop and their relationships. And some of the relationship stuff kind of felt like a kick in the head – if only because I’m trying to make that mental shift from sleeping with people to going out with people without the person who actually convinced me I could make such a shift in the first place. And you know, sleeping with people is fun – but more about that later.
Film ends and I browbeat my colleagues into a visit to G.A.Y. where I am immediately obsessed by the cheap nastiness of my t-shirt which I accidentally bought earlier in the day. But within half an hour John, Nick and I are joined by Sam C on the stage in the middle of the dance floor. Remember – I’m new to this, I’ve only been to G.A.Y. once before and that was last week. Honestly, I had a great time. Anyway – halfway through the evening I met this charming shirtless gentleman called Claudio. He was fairly keen and after a couple of hours of mid dance floor fumbling, it became clear to me that this man would quite cheerfully claim the title of ‘best looking man I’ve ever shagged’ if I were to agree to take him home with me. Which is why I was startled when I realised that I wasn’t going to. That I was going to walk off, get a drink, find my friends and go home. I’m still trying to figure out why I did it. Didn’t feel right, I suppose.
Where did Meg and Jason go? Oh I don’t know, oh I don’t know. Oh, where did Meg and Jason go? Oh here they are with Judy.