It’s search engines! It’s madness!
It's search engines! It's madness! Weird. Within what felt like *seconds* of shifting this site to this server and domain name, Google had indexed it and was brilliantly serving all the relevant pages at the drop of a hat. Suddenly - it's gone, and instead it's serving the old domain. WTF?
Tin Man has a viewpoint
Tin Man has a viewpoint that while flawed, as some of his commenters note, appeals to the optimist in me that I never let out.
The self-referential art of the
The self-referential art of the Blog. I was thinking about what I posted on the subject of Kenneth Williams on Sunday night, and I started to ponder the irony that I was making those comments in my own diary. Assuming I manage to keep this thing going, I wonder what terrible hypocrisies of mine it will bring to light once I'm dead. The hope, I suppose, is that because it's public, people can spot if it starts to happen and warn me. Now I'm really scared 
Here’s me being what Chris
Here's me being what Chris would call a 'linkslut':
First up - yet more photos of the World Trade Center attack, but these are Damien's, so they feel more personal, somehow.
Next up, yet another gruesomely tricky Flash game in the mould of last week's 3D Pong - Slime Volleyball
And finally for now - All About My Vagina (no, not *mine*, obviously).
Forgot that I’ve also opinioned
Forgot that I've also opinioned the book I've just been reading, and it's on the left too.
Went to see Moulin Rouge
Went to see Moulin Rouge this afternoon - opinion on the left.
While I was writing it up this evening, I was watching the latest in a long line of profiles of Kenneth Williams (it feels like the latest in a long line *this month* for some reason). Right at the beginning, someone said that Williams was even more popular since his death than before, because of the publication of his diaries. Personally speaking, I found that hard to believe: I worshipped the man when I was younger - I loved his erudition, his wit, his stage presence, the speed at which he thought, and his ability to find exactly the right word in every situation, both serious and comic. Years after he died, I read the diaries, and discovered a twisted, poisonous little man; whose self-loathing caused him to condemn others who overcame their own; whose much-touted celibacy (which I had always admired his openness about) hid a series of seedy sexual encounters, primarily in North Africa, which he tried to pretend didn't count because actual penetration never took place; a racist (regularly referring to black people as 'chimps'). Thank whatever powers there are that I didn't read them when I was struggling with my own sexuality, is all I can say. It was all I could do to battle to the end of the diaries after reading his reference to AIDS as 'self-inflicted'.
Surprisingly enough, having finally dozed
Surprisingly enough, having finally dozed off at about 4am, I didn't feel much like moving when the alarm went off at 5.30. My unstinting admiration goes out to those who did go along and participate.
In the absence of anything
In the absence of anything else to do (you know, like sleep), I've been watching the Telethon (America: A Tribute to Heroes). It's clearly been a mammoth undertaking to pull it together, and it would be churlish in the extreme of me to do anything but say that you can make donations here.
Although as I’m wide still
Although as I'm wide still wide awake I'm not sure how ready for the cameras I'll be at dawn......
And I see that the
And I see that the ongoing demonising of the net and its technologies rages on.