Sunday, December 14, 2003

i'm not sure what is it about computers, and the way they twist your mind; it's long after i wanted to go to bed, and i keep moving in aimless circles across the sites i usually frequent. nothing interesting there: books i will not buy, articles i will not read. yet i go there.
it's easier in Michael's flat: he has heating, nice ambience lights, a DIY hi-techy desk, a laptop and broadband. A guess: this is the only squat in London with broadband. well, maybe in East London, and maybe not even this. you see, he's not paying for it, so why assume he's the only one? no scam, just one of these offers from these slimey octapus-like net companies that lurk in the plumbing of this thing on which we find ourselves inscribed.
i promised S to wake up early. i better turn the un-invited irish folk music that appeared suddenly in the background, and go