Category: Random

Decision of the day is whether or not to return to the big smoke this evening or first thing in the morning. I have to prepare for some contract work I’m starting on Tuesday at a company called Avondi at some point tomorrow, so I should go back late this evening and get some sleep. But I’m scared of going back to London and having to face up to long-term employment prospects, pending financial catastrophe and emotional insolvency. And I really want to see Jason and the Argonauts.

Search request of the day goes to “Pictures of me I’m good looking”, which is not only absurdly ridiculous, but manages somehow to bring up Luke, Meg and me as the top three links. And it is true. We are all extremely good looking.

I’m getting increasingly irritated by being linked to by weblogs that are substantially better than plasticbag.org. It’s not my fault, godammit. I try to write good stuff, but it all turns into crap when it hits the screen. And I know that my design’s a bit lacklustre, but you don’t have to draw attention to it by just sitting there and being cooler than me.

I am extremely upset that I missed dinner at the home of the Finchley Three on Thursday. This is one reason to wish I was back in London, I suppose.

I find myself horrified by the prospect of returning to London. Norfolk is providing an incredible escape from all the crap I’m supposed to be dealing with at the moment that I don’t really want to have to be dealing with, but can’t see a way to avoid. I really need a couple of months of something radically different. My cousin Chloe came around this morning, and she suggested that we take off around the West Coast of America for a couple of weeks. I said I’d love to if I stumbled upon a spare five grand.

My brother informs me that my mother says I look like Jamie Oliver. When I ask him in what way, he says, “You know… Scruffy.”

My eating habits are all over the place, which is probably not the best thing at a time like this. On Thursday night I caught up with an old friend from Bristol, Dan Brilliant. I met up with him at a restaurant on St. Martins Lane. All day up to that point I had eaten half a pain au chocolat and a glass of orange juice. I ate a lot that evening, because he distracted me from the continual soundtrack of “You’re a loser” and “No one could love you” playing relentlessly in my head. On Friday, I had eaten exactly nothing by six in the evening. I then had a sandwich and some milk. My mother offered to make me some food when I got back to Norwich, but I just didn’t want anything. So that’s all I ate all day.

There’s something very biologically unlikely about the process of not wanting to eat when you’re lovelorn (I can’t honestly think of another word that doesn’t make me sound ridiculous or pathetic). It just doesn’t sound like the kind of thing you’d do if you were designing a reproductive system. Perhaps it’s, “So you didn’t succeed in your relationship? You’re too fat! Lose half a stone and try again.” [I’m not saying that I couldn’t afford to lose half a stone, but still…] If anyone has any links referring to or explaining the post-(ex/proto)relationship-food-aversion, then please contact me.

Finally, Angel gets good again. I’m at home in Norfolk with my family at the moment, and so far the best part of the whole experience has been seeing Buffy and Angel back to back on Sky One. I’ve just seen the episode “Reprise”, in which Angel does the dirty deed with Darla. My flatmate may well die of pleasure when she sees it.

Map-making Martyr “Ian Thomas loves making maps. His talent won him respect and a US government job. So why was he fired for putting a chart of caribou calving areas on the internet?”

This is so cool. My first paid film review. And a page all about me. It’s enough to make a man happy to be alive.