Patroclus, the society hostess of Web 2.0, has introduced me to twitter.com, one of those sites that balances precariously on that narrow rail between "Zeitgeist-defining" and "stupid". The deal is that users simply key what they are doing righthererightnow into a box, and then see what everyone else is doing at the same time. It's like that October 17 mass diary experiment writ large. Or maybe blogging for people with exceedingly short attention spOld joke. Sorry.
The effect - sorry, the "user experience" - seemed oddly familiar, but it took a while before I could place it. It's like that episode of Torchwood when Toshiko has a pendant that lets her know what everyone around her is thinking; she puts it on while she's in a pub, and gets thrown back against the wall by the sheer force of people's deep, dark musings, all spilling out like a white noise of frustration, lust and banality.
Except that, after using twitter, you don't automatically get to have a frenzied bout of lesbian rudeness with someone who used to be in EastEnders.
Well, I didn't.
11 comments:
>>after using twitter, you don't automatically get to have a frenzied bout of lesbian rudeness with someone who used to be in EastEnders.<<
Give it time, and hope you don't get Wendy Richard.
I found you straightaway, debating whether or not to go and have a poo. There are three of us now; you, me and Spinny. I think the idea is that we cling to each other like those ants in Brazil, until there are enough of us to make a raft out of our own massed bodies. Then we float off down the Amazon in search of...I don't know...a new anthill or something. I'd lost concentration by that point. You might want to go and have a poo first, though.
"The society hostess of Web 2.0" is possibly the best thing I've ever been called on the internet, thanks for that. I'm considering using it as my new tagline.
Well, the bloggers from Hydragenic and Troubled Diva are both Twittering, so you're not entirely alone.
I don't think it's my sort of thing as I lead such an incredibly dull middle aged housewife life that even if I invented stuff it would still be boring.
Merry wotsit, by the way.
Merry Ch
Ah but the question is which soap would provide you with the best person for a frenzied bout of lesbian rudeness?
I'm going to plump for Eldorado.
Patroclus: I see you as being somewhere between Lady Bracknell, and Mrs Miggins from Blackadder 3.
Not sure about the ant business, though. All a bit Disney's Living Planet by the sound of things.
Betty: Believe me, nothing in your life can prepare you for the abject tedium that seems to infect the lives of these people. John Major's Spitting Image puppet would liven the place up.
Lucien: Ha bloody h
Billy: But what about Anna Friel in Brookie? If ever a girl needed rescuing from a life of sensible shoes by the spouting testosterone of the Billster...
I don't think even my best friends should see what I'm doing at the moment.
I know this is a bit radical, but you *can* lie about what you're doing..
Tim, I think you should plug the hell out of your book. (Who is going to stop you, anyway? Hell with etiquette.) (I say this as a collector of antique etiquette books.)
Merry Christmas Tim, what do you eat in Thailand?
dh: Pity about the CCTV outside your window. And you need to use more goose fat when you do it that way up.
Valerie: Plug season begins Jan 1.
Doc: Well, since it's just Small Boo and me this year, we're having what we bloomin' well like, which is all the veg (sprouts and roast spuds and parsnips) and a Dean Martin CD and some old Morecambe & Wise shows afterwards.
Lady Bracknell and Mrs Miggins? There goes my fond image of myself as a latter-day Emilie du Chatelet.
Hope all went as planned yesterday. Are sprouts and parsnips easy to come by in Thailand? It's almost impossible to find parsnips here.
In Bangkok you can get almost anything, if you pay a bit over the odds, and accept that the quality might be a bit sub-par. Apart from the encroachment of Tesco and Carrefour into the retail landscape (one day I'll do a massively detailed, Gillray-style cartoon, with the supermarket giants as Pitt and Napoleon, and about three people in the world will understand it) there's a rather depressing place called Villa, where you can see confused Thai wives and maids in search of Bisto gravy granules and Dairylea cheese and Budweiser to feed their horrible farang overlords.
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