Tuesday, 19 January 2010

Some strange opposite of being marooned on a rock in the digital ocean

I've been stranded with no internet access at home for fucking ages. 
1 hour a day in Hackney Central library is hardly even enough time to notice that the young muslim guy sitting next to me has been casually browsing hardcore porn the whole time.

I don't own a scanner. Every time I scan something in in the library, something strange happens to the file and all that's there on my memory stick when I get home is an infuriating conflagration of chinese characters and an image that despite being there and having an icon all of its own, apparently has a file size of 0kb.  For some reason I have taken it upon myself to repeat this pointless exercise 3 times.

On the up side, spending lots of time in public libraries is good for me. I like the people. They smell like life and they all walk differently. Their clothes seem to utter idiosyncratic rhymes about their living rooms and the moods of their pets. I feel privileged to be one of this bony, stinky, oozy rude gang whenever the sensation strikes that I am, in fact, a key member.

I don't have any images to post. This entry is more a page in my diary that I am choosing to share with you, whoever you are. So, for the sake of consistency, here's a new fact about me;
I work (volunteer) in an Oxfam bookshop now in Crouch End. Its nice. I get free books from the recycling pile. If I had a scanner of my own I'd give serious consideration to scanning in the cover of a volume I brought home today from 1984 called,

Pre-Menstrual Syndrome 
your complete self help plan
by Dr Robert C.D Wilson

Underneath this bold red and green text there is a printed photograph of a blonde woman, under ungainly studio lights, very slightly cross-eyed, positioned in front of a heavy brown curtain, smiling, stupidly, like a sea cow and holding a basket of raw broccoli up to her face.

P.S Issue 2 almost ready!

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