Just been to amusing restaurant launch. Lots of mixed feelings, mainly the desire to bolt (after another glass of wine, flash-fried ravioli, asparagus tip or ham and olive ball, of course). A therapeutic razz on my scanner, and I feel more at home. This photo of friend M helping sister M with her sari is one of my favourite yet.

BBC
FBI
NASA
MI5
MA
BA
CIA
007
M1

A little girl goes into a pet shop and says,
"Excuse me mister, I want to buy a rabbit."

The pet shop owner asks, "Ah, what would you like,
a little fluffy white one or a cute brown one?"

The girl replies, "I don't really think my
python gives a fuck."

Ever been told that you've not got a job and wanted to whoop for joy? When I was face to face with earlier-mentioned woman this afternoon and the word 'Unfortunately' formed on her lips I could barely contain my relief. I knew I wasn't right for the job, knew that I couldn't magic up the specialist experience necessary. More than that, I don't need to be defined by the company that pays my wage, nor am I interested in the status that job might've afforded. Could've used the extra few £k tho.

Have spent the last couple of days holed up in a, admittedly gorgeous, hotel in Kent, dreaming up ways to get people to do things. I can't work out which is true, or even if it matters: do people want the things we want them to want? Do people only want the things they want because that's what we think they want, when in fact they don't want it all, but believe it's the only option? Stick with me here. Do people not want anything at all, but think they should be wanting or aspiring to something? Do we cause want or just facilitate it?

Not really got my thoughts together on this, but better out of my head than in.

And also spent the whole day with the person who interviewed me the other day and is thus, the person who will be shaping my life whether I want it or not. I either did a great job of it, or sparked off a further nationwide search for the perfect person.

It's Friday night, no matter what's happening in the world tout le large, I just watched the last episode of 'Sex in the City'. The final track. What happened? I just feel like throwing my hands up in the air. Without a sentimental tear, of course.

Current worries:

:: will I be offered the job?
:: will C DW sue my company?
:: is getting on the tube safe?
:: was it ever?
:: will the train get me up North on time?
:: will my photos turn out OK?
:: why is my crown aching again?
:: will F die?
:: how will I get up at 7.30am tomorrow?
:: what class am I?
:: why can't I describe what pure maths is?

Normal service then.

One of my favourite artists is Cornelia Parker (well-thought out luxury there), particularly the installation of fluff taken from Freud's sofa and placed in a glass cabinet.

I wonder if she'd like a supply of my used contact lenses? They've seen plenty for visitors to ponder on.

Currently reading the trashy page-turner chick-lit for the cash-rich, time-poor generation Apocalypse, by DH Lawrence. A couple of paragraphs in the first chapter struck a chord:

"A book only lives while it has power to move us, and move us differently; so long as we find it different every time we read it. Owing to the flood of shallow books which really are exhausted in one reading, the modern mind tends to think every book is the same, finished in one reading ... We shall now see the reading public dividing again into two groups: the vast mass, who read for amusement and for momentary interest, and the small minority, who only want books that have value to themselves, books which yield interest, and still deeper experience."

The book was first published in 1931. It's curious how his words, while directed at books, apply equally to our latter-day use of the Internet.

As if there isn't enough to worry about in the world, now Gap is playing Echo and the Bunnymen at toofast bpm.

What's in a (baby) name?

Got laughably irritated on the tube this morning by the woman who read then finished, her copy of The Sun, and didn't leave it behind when she got off, instead neatly folding it up to take it with her.

Do you want to meet people like you, or are you best avoided?

Where's my red pen?

"i recently watched a hoilday program where a presenter went tp loas. there was lots of info about buddhism on the report that was really accessable. i teach re at a secondary school as was wondering if there was any way i could get a copy. i have read your notice about not sending out tapes, and have missed thr thursday repreat. is there anything else you acn suggest?"

On the subject of delusions of grandeur. If you're thinking about seeing the Bosch and Bruegel: Inventions, Enigmas and Variations you might like to consider that it's in Room 1 and contains about 10 paintings/drawings. If you thought, because of the exhibition title, that it was about Bosch, note also that just one of the paintings is by Bosch. At least it's free, bar a donation and worth a look if you're in the area.

Amused musing at how easy it is to build up a trail of what I'm doing by online scents:

:: blog - time posted (or is it?)
:: referrer's stats
:: entries onto sites like del.icio.us
:: sending of emails
:: posting on messageboards
:: time/duration of online calls to my ISP

Then elsewhere there's:
:: mobile gps
:: travel card
:: work pass (maybe)
:: bank card
:: land line telephone calls
:: security cameras
:: webcams known and unknown

How does anybody ever lie successfully about what they were doing when these days?

A man goes to the doctor and says,
"Doctor, I'm having trouble with my hearing".
"What are the symptoms?" asks the doctor.
The man replies, "A yellow TV cartoon family".

In the middle of the night, while the ghosties are trying to pick Mrs Galloway’s refirgerator lock to get at her Creme Eggs, I lie awake and watch the moon slowly move between the pines and think of the advantages of dying. Not that we are given a choice. Well, yes, there is self-slaughter, but that has always struck me as vulgar and self-important, like people who walk out of the theatre or the symphony concert. What I mean is - well, you know what I mean.

Main reasons for dying: it’s what others expect when you reach my age; impending decreptitude and senility; waste of money - using up inheritance - keeping together brain-dead incontinent bag of old bones; decreased interest in The News, famines, wars, etc; fear of falling under total power of Sgt-Major; desire to Find Out about Afterwards (or not?).

Main reasons for not dying; have never done what others expect, so why start now; possible distress caused to others (but if so, inevitable at any time); still only on B at Lie Brewery; who would infuriate

Intrigued? Read more at Over There, How America sees the world.