The counting down of days is becoming tedious. Tedious Medious. I feel like its October 1988 and my small town is about to witness the end of the world. Is it wrong to check Grandma Death’s mail?
I floated over to Newcastle today and got myself a shiny new amp. Mmm. Lots of buttons and dials and stuff. Looks like its going to take a while to find some settings I like because at the moment I don’t really know what I’m doing and a lot of the sounds it makes are pretty ‘thick’. I was only in Newcastle for less than an hour, so that meant I had to face the cold and baron techno-death that was waiting in my house. As it turns out, the amp does in fact work without having to be connected to the Internet, which is surprising because it exists.
Enter the Chicken is a nice slice of album. (That wasn’t a Max Payne reference. You would probably only get that if you were a serious nerd and knew the name of the fictional pizza delivery company, which I do, obviously.)
The Hand is a good track. A bit strange, but good. Anything with Maximum Bob is going to be good. I think I might end up writing a one of my patented full in-depth definitive reviews on it. Especially as I can’t get distracted, but it also means that I can’t research into any hilarious references to insert, despite them mainly getting wasted on most of my demographic, so I’ll have to use ye Olde Brain to dig up my thoughts from instead of letting Google think for me.
Writing these daily summary things makes me feel like I’m in a rehab centre for addicts. Like I have to write a daily diary to avoid succumbing to more drugs. “I am a slithering knot of neurosis, a tumour of tumult. Incapable of the merest social encounter, my days are a series of embarrassing ordeals, strung together with miserable introspection. The grim weather, but for its potency, reflects my maudlin soul.” (Yeah, work that reference out, melon head.)
I think that this diary thing has helped me deal with the initial shock of dis-connectivity. It’s almost therapeutic, but despite this diary being 100% historically, scientifically and anatomically accurate, it is unlikely that many people will read it all.
I have seen people crumble when they run out of minutes or texts on their phone, or they are on the verge of suicide when Facebook is down for maintenance for 18 minutes at 4:30 in the morning. Facebook is just one website. I’ve been stopped from all of them like some sort of dirty old man who lurks around in Primark.