Archive for April, 2003

The Love Triangle behind Britpop

Fascinating piece in the Guardian about the love-triangle behind Britpop. This line, from the second page, brought tears to my eyes, it rung so true, I find myself constantly having dreams like this about long-lost friends:

With Albarn once again absent, she decided to re-establish contact with someone whose company she had not shared for the best part of six years: Brett Anderson. “I had a terrible dream about him: that he was dead, and I wasn’t invited to the funeral,” she says. “I was watching the funeral from the other side of some gates. And I realised I hadn’t seen him for years, and it was sad, so I called him. He was really nice, straight away.”

It seems that too many

It seems that too many people love the Iraqi Information Minister. (site now available here)

Disgusting: FBI targeting Michael Franti

Disgusting: FBI targeting Michael Franti and Spearhead for peace song and anti-war activities - sounds like J Edgar Hoover’s back in charge.

Here’s my operatic alter-ego: You

Here’s my operatic alter-ego:
laboheme.jpg
You are La Boheme!

What Opera Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

More photos of Magma

Stuck some more photos online - another trip to Magma.

Weird, scary stuff happening last

Weird, scary stuff happening last week.

I had (still have) an infected finger (acute paronychia, I believe), the end swelled up to about three times its size. I was at Ed’s and, well, rather stoned (after a couple of weeks of healthy-living detox). It was too painful, so I grabbed one of Ed’s scalpel blades, disinfected it, and tried slicing into my finger under some running water. Couldn’t get any pus out. I kept trying, still no luck so I gave up and stuck a plaster over it.

Over the course of the evening, my finger got more and more painful, it seemed to double in size every half-hour and was throbbing like mad. I went to bed around 3am, very stoned and in agony. I tried to sleep, propping my hand up above me to minimise the bloodflow and ensuing agony. No such luck - I couldn’t sleep. Pulse, pulse, pulse, thump, thump - it felt like my entire arm was infected and pumped full of pus.

After about half-an-hour, I went to the toilet, felt very fuzzy-headed on my way there, felt way too stoned when I got there, sat on the toilet but felt sick, slumped down onto the floor (think I may have bumped my head on the way), my head fuzzed over, everything went into little dots. After an unknowable amount of time I tried standing up - it went fuzzy again and I think I fell over again. Eventually I decided I’d got as much benefit as I could from lying on the cool bathroom floor, and perhaps I was all better now, so I got up to walk back into Ed’s studio. I don’t know what happened next, but I remember Ed lifting me up, saying “are you OK, you’re white as a sheet”, and trying but failing to stand up, and noticing I had blood coming out of my nose, and Ed carrying me back into his room, lying me down with a wet flannel over my head. Suddenly everything felt much, much better - pleasant even. I was alive again. I dozed off very quickly.

When I woke up in the morning the flannel was still there, covering my whole face.

I just updated my articles

I just updated my articles page to, very belatedly, add stuff I’d written (or stolen from people long dead) for the last two issues of FAD. I meant to re-arrange them into categories (computing/technology, media/marketing, fashion/art/design, FOOD) but couldn’t be arsed. Enjoy.

The reflection off my

Windows Media Player, starring Dan

The reflection off my monitor at this time of day certainly is something!