On the shock of discovering a work-ethic, and the horror of realising that this is why you’ve never made any money: When payment seems in excess of workload, typically I have increased workload to compensate rather than saying “Thank you very much”. I don’t honestly know what’s wrong with me…
A recurrent theme at EMAP in recent weeks has been the battle between Cal and I about whether or not Mac Internet Explorer 5 is a good or a bad browser. Seriously. This is the kind of thing that keeps us busy all day. Cal maintains that a browser that doesn’t conform to standards is a bad browser. I maintain that IE5 is not substantially worse than IE6 for PCs, and that although it has its problems, it has been lauded as one of the best browsers on the market.
Well now I’m prepared to throw the towel in. Who, in effect, gives a …. when IE 5.1 is out. I’ll let you know what I think of it when I get a moment…
Sigh. Another victim of the dot.com disaster – and one that you’d think would be the last to fail. How is it possible that a site that did nothing but show other people’s TV adverts free could go under? You’d think that multi-national corporations would be delighted by the free publicity, and by people watching and rewatching the promotion of their products. The campaign starts here to encourage Gap and all the other regular TV advertisers to pay to maintain the site – as they should have been doing so all along…
Never before did I fully understand the horrible difficulties of being a great big nasty right-wing facist. And when you get bored of that, there’s a new quiz at TCN.
Right, that’s enough bollocks for one day. I’m off to a Chanukah party.
Putting all your favourite songs onto an iPod throws up a few interesting juxtapositions. You’re happily wandering through Clerkenwell listening to The Sisters of Mercy in a kind of retro-bohemian, Berlin goth style and you’re feeling quite self-satisfied in a homo superior “doesn’t get enough sun” kind of way, and then Randy Crawford explodes into your ears with a heavy dose of Street Life. I’m just saying it’s strange, is all. Not bad.
Strange songs on my iPod:
Get thee to Limewire, my friends, and build your own screwed-up music collective of the weird taste of Tom. For without these songs bouncing around your psyche, you can’t hope to understand the depths to which I’ve plunged…
Random URLs that I tried that shouldn’t really exist, but do: Burn the World, whatthefuck.com, bored.com.
You know what? Sod the expense. I’m joining my local gym. Question – is it good to only be able to feel you can take the world on when you feel sexy? What happens when you stop feeling sexy through age? Or when you’ve got a bit fat and tired? Do you become a recluse and live in a hut? What then, eh? What then?
To what extent is it appropriate when one reaches thirty to still blame one’s parents for one’s complete inability to relate to other people and form long-lasting and emotionally satisfying relationships? Probably not fair at all. I should stop, really.
When I think of my parents, I think of that famous line, “With patricide, the parents are never completely free of blame”. I’ve always liked that. I don’t know where it comes from.
You know who else is cool (if under-represented on the interhighweb)? Serge, the Seal of Death. Now, he’s cool… Not hot, particularly. But cool. Definitely cool.