16 November 2004
broadband...but no computer
Disaster has struck at all-new Infinite Thought Towers. I now write to you from some odd Islamic internet cafe in Hackney...
At some point between 3 and 4am Sunday night, some person or persons unknown broke into the flat and took all das dings (laptop, cash card, camera, phone, ...a bottle of whiskey). Fortunately, I think, I didn't wake up during the thieving (given that whoever did it had the audacity to eat half a banana and leave all the lights on, I doubt they would have been too averse to clocking out a little girl who came and disturbed them). 'Crackheads' said a rosy-faced policeman as a pair of them arrived 6 hours later. Thanks for that. The forensics people took the banana ('we'll swab it for DNA' - will they really do this? I would be quite impressed if they meant it), before finally smashing the window completely by clumsily trying to dust it for fingerprints.
So, anyway, with no insurance I am bereft of technology, but have escaped with corpus intact. They also stole a bag containing some Lukacs and books about class (do crackheads constitute a class? I suppose they would be lumpen, or perhaps even scum-pen, ouch). If anyone tries to sell you a job lot of sociology books, just say no! and then tell me...
Anyway, hope you can all come along to noisetheorynoise#2 on Saturday. Should be good, and you can buy me a pint to make up for losses - Suburbian friend told me last night that you should only drink out of sorrow, and that you should only be sorrowful for a reason. That's pretty profound, I thought, before downing another glass of overpriced red wine in some pointless bid to avoid accepting a world without my laptop and me in close proximity - I loved that computer, I tell you! Like a puppy, or a blanket with a puppy inside it.
Did go and see a concert last night at the RFH with Cecil Taylor, Bill Dixon, Tony Oxley and the Anthony Braxton Quintet. It was alright, you know. I surprised myself by getting quite into it at various points - but, man, jazz does something weird to your perception of time... I particularly liked Bill Dixon doing a solo spot which consisted of his blowing air into a reverb-modulated-trumpet.
So there you have it. Stay safe, readers, and never ever involve me in a discussion about bananas. I don't want to see another piece of bent yellow fruit ever again - which is a shame really, as they constituted virtually all of the healthy part of my diet. Boo.
At some point between 3 and 4am Sunday night, some person or persons unknown broke into the flat and took all das dings (laptop, cash card, camera, phone, ...a bottle of whiskey). Fortunately, I think, I didn't wake up during the thieving (given that whoever did it had the audacity to eat half a banana and leave all the lights on, I doubt they would have been too averse to clocking out a little girl who came and disturbed them). 'Crackheads' said a rosy-faced policeman as a pair of them arrived 6 hours later. Thanks for that. The forensics people took the banana ('we'll swab it for DNA' - will they really do this? I would be quite impressed if they meant it), before finally smashing the window completely by clumsily trying to dust it for fingerprints.
So, anyway, with no insurance I am bereft of technology, but have escaped with corpus intact. They also stole a bag containing some Lukacs and books about class (do crackheads constitute a class? I suppose they would be lumpen, or perhaps even scum-pen, ouch). If anyone tries to sell you a job lot of sociology books, just say no! and then tell me...
Anyway, hope you can all come along to noisetheorynoise#2 on Saturday. Should be good, and you can buy me a pint to make up for losses - Suburbian friend told me last night that you should only drink out of sorrow, and that you should only be sorrowful for a reason. That's pretty profound, I thought, before downing another glass of overpriced red wine in some pointless bid to avoid accepting a world without my laptop and me in close proximity - I loved that computer, I tell you! Like a puppy, or a blanket with a puppy inside it.
Did go and see a concert last night at the RFH with Cecil Taylor, Bill Dixon, Tony Oxley and the Anthony Braxton Quintet. It was alright, you know. I surprised myself by getting quite into it at various points - but, man, jazz does something weird to your perception of time... I particularly liked Bill Dixon doing a solo spot which consisted of his blowing air into a reverb-modulated-trumpet.
So there you have it. Stay safe, readers, and never ever involve me in a discussion about bananas. I don't want to see another piece of bent yellow fruit ever again - which is a shame really, as they constituted virtually all of the healthy part of my diet. Boo.
