sweet effay

Bloody Internet connection. I can hadly read Blogs most of the time, let alone post to my own. The effay Tactical Nuclear Unit is off on manoeuvres next week but when we get back, I'm biting the bullet and getting broadband. Whether it will make any difference, who can tell? My brother has been regaling me with tales of woe about his own attempts to set up broadband. Naturally, I put it down to his general technical incompetence, but it turns out that after a week, BT have admitted that the only way it will ever work is if they dig up the line. I reminded him that he has a second line in the house which was installed when he was electronically tagged and which is now redundant (well, at least for the moment), but apparently he is not allowed to use that one.

In the absence of twinkling modem icons, I have been sitting in pubs reading the latest posthumous Deleuze publication. I must admit that my hopes weren't high, but it really is rather good even if quite a bit of it has seen the light of day in English before. Hardly a work of great philosophical significance, but lots of snappy soundbites:

Discussion is just an exercise in narcissism where eveyone takes turns in showing off.

Sounds like a description of some of most the enjoyable evenings I've ever had, but you've got to admit that he has a point. There are also comments on Gulf War 1 and veils in French schools which could have been made yesterday rather than ten years ago. So much for progress.

Speaking of things which were made yesterday, I finally bought the Complete Fall Peel Sessions on Monday. It's one of those things that I knew I would get eventually but have been saving for when I needed something to cheer me up because, say, I had to spend long hours listening to the incessant whine of a modem failing to connect. It seems to be doing the trick.