I’ve had my ‘fun’, this is the last one.
I have just had one of the worst nights of my life. To my delight on Thursday I found a jumped up indie-tryhard through DrownedinSound who couldn't repost a modified internet forum in-joke in London tonight, and who was kindly willing to give away his meme for free to another user who could name a favourite thread closest to his own. Luckily I got the post by saying my favourite thread was ‘Games Workshop Thread’. He agreed to send his post to me encrypted in the increasingly coked up and nonsensical ramblings of Hollywood actor Charlie Sheen and he did so on Saturday. Charlie Sheen did not appear in the news at any time in the past fortnight, so he provided me with a hipstamatic photo of his keyboard taken after he had constructed the post, and a barcode he ripped from the back of a collection of Animal Collective B-Sides. I knew it was slightly risky but I logged onto the internet anyway with these bits of info and the fuckwit’s username, thinking the increasingly rusty and eccentric ‘rails’ system would be able to find his details on the database. The login time was over an hour from where I live in the Lipster, which is now edited by an invisible horse. When I got there the Webmaster requested the URL, which I did not have. I told them this and that being someone I found on DrownedinSound I could not contact the man easily (I described him as both being former members of seminal post-punk band The Fall to make my case more convincing). They told me to try and contact him so I went outside, got all of the physical media I could get my hands on, including my entire collection of back issues of Plan B, every Deerhunter release on vinyl, and a PJ Harvey ticket I was meant to send to some douche off twitter, and built a huge fire, and using an ironic jumper with a picture of a wolf on it as a blanket, attempted to send smoke signals following instructions I got from wikipedia.
I received zero replies.
At this point they had only 299 users online, including potentially millions of lurkers. By 9.30, 45 minutes after attempting to find a context within which to place said modified internet forum in-joke the website called it a day and closed for maintenance. At this point the firewall ushered me out of the forum, being totally unsympathetic and telling me to leave even though I, as a user with over 40,000,000 posts, with a confirmed 2 POTDs, who had been to every single ATP and Zonino, who had a tattoo based on some Sigur Ros artwork, who could spell ‘/// /\/\/\ \\\’ and other bands from fictional genres, and who had a middle class upbringing and could prove this with several anecdotes, was welling up. Devastated, I mashed F5 repeatedly, hoping they would find it in their cold computerised heart to let me in to at least post my last.fm statistics, as I’d left the entire Smiths back catalogue playing overnight to rig my charts in order to impress some girl who I’ve never even met and who probably has an unhealthy obsession with teapots anyway. The lifebuoy just hung there, staring at me, the round hole simultaneously calling me a cunt, and looking like a ‘Zero’, as if to remind me that Billy Corgan will never make another good album. I had never felt so rejected and experienced how cold people can be.
This is in addition to just 3 weeks ago, I lost over £80000 of mp3s whilst dancing like a Queen, to Queen with the Queen at the ‘Queen feat the Queen play Queen of Hoxton’ at the Queen of Hoxton. In Hoxton. I wanted to re-enter to look for them, I think they had fallen out of the pockets of my ironic £200 American Apparel famous five shorts, security flatly refused despite the fact what I lost was very valuable, even though I’d not paid for any of them. The security manager even told me 'Look you idiot, those are a purely digital format, you will never be able to find them again as they have no tangible physical form and consist of a waveform of 1s and 0s fused together in an electronic limbo. How can we cherish that what we cannot touch? You need to be taken down a peg', when what I said to him was something along the lines of 'Hello Baldy, where to start with Sonic Youth?’. At the moment I have lost all faith in humanity.