It's frightening how dependent I am on it these days. I don't need to be online that much now but I need to know I can get online if I want to -- and when I can't it drives me crazy.
Had a lovely weekend all told, as I met fialka on Friday, breaking the two-pints rule with abandon. Alas, she did not want to see the stripping Yorkshire film, so I'll go today. I want to see it because it looks like cheesey fun.
I should really be doing things with the house but I so cannot be arsed. I've painted the living room and rigged up a coat rail using sisal rope and a circular piece of wood, which looks all right, I've shifted the rubbish from the front garden... is there any reason at all why I can't spend the day watching a cheesy film in Leicester Square, scoffing a pub lunch and then meandering back via Charing Cross Road? No, there is not. Dammit.
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Back to work tomorrow. Proper work, as opposed to the Saturday job, though the Saturday job did inspire the icon.
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A few articles that I found really interesting:
Novelist Henry Porter on the Hutton Inquiry. He doesn't really come to any conclusions, it's more an extended harrumph at the whole situation.
A long feature about September 11 from Esquire but reprinted in the Obs this week that almost made me cry on the train home on Saturday night. Luckily it was the 0.35 to Gidea Park, so people probably just thought that I was a maudlin drunk. This is one of the hardest reads I've ever encountered, but it's thought-provoking. I wouldn't even look at it if you're feeling raw, though.
An interesting article about sound and fury, acoustics and ghosts.
Do you think that there's such a thing as a bulletproof kink in music? Particular chord progressions or kinds of voice that will always, always get you, no matter whether the songs are sung by The Beatles or some hideous kiddiepop abomination?