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Monday, March 29

The Feature

OK, so here I am, writing about someone writing about me writing about me. My brain hurts just trying to make sure that sentence makes some semblance of sense. Mmmm, poetic alliteration.

It all started two weeks ago. Yes, I know that I'm setting a new record by working two weeks in arrears, but at least I?ve finally got round to writing about it!

That Monday evening (the 15th), I received an email from a man named Simon Garfield, a writer for the Observer Sunday newspaper. He was writing a feature on the rise of British blogging, and wanted to include me and my blog in the feature. Apparently he?d been an avid reader for months (one of three, I believe).

I was very excited. a) that I had at least one regular reader, and b) that someone found me (or my writing) interesting enough to want to write about it themselves. Matt, apologies for ringing you that night, but I had to tell someone!

I went to dinner with Simon (Mr Garfield? I'm quite formal and respectful of my elders?), which was great for two reasons:
1. I got to talk about me (my favourite subject) and the internet (my second favourite subject) for a couple of hours. I have an ego to flatter from time to time, and this experience was a good massaging of it.
2. I managed to ask Simon loads of questions about how he got into journalism. He gave me loads of ideas, of which I have acted on precisely none so far. I?ve been busy, sort of.

Anyway, for those of you who are interested in reading it in print form, the article will be published this coming Sunday (the 4th). It will also be online, and I?ll get a link posted ASAP.

Oh, and according to Simon (still feels wrong to be using just a first name?), I have a very softly spoken tone of voice. You just haven?t seen me after a few beers! I get quite, quite loud then.

UPDATE: I received a phone call from the Observer earlier today, arranging for me to meet a photographer, so a picture of my ugly mug can accompany the article. Oh joy, that means I've got to spruce myself up and look half-decent tomorrow. Oh, and tidy my room up a bit, because he apparently wants a picture of me at my computer. Not looking forward to that?

The Following Few Days

I have to admit that the next couple of days were very dull. I had those essays to write, so I did pretty much bugger all worth writing about.

The 5,000 word essay was quite successful, I think. I managed to write 8,500 words in the end, all on what I considered to be relevant and interesting material. What a strange feeling it was half an hour before the deadline to have to highlight a three-page-chunk and hit the Delete key. I'd poured my energies into writing that!

I handed the essay in on the Monday (the 22nd) afternoon, and as I'd worked incredibly hard over the weekend, I figured I'd reward myself by taking an entire day off before starting the second essay, due in on the Friday.

Tuesday was therefore wick.

I had a lie-in, did a little bit of cleaning (yes, not exactly fun, but I take pleasure from seeing a clean house), and then went to the cinema to see Battle Royale.

I know that that film has been out for a good few years, but this little arthouse cinema off of Leicester Square was having a Beat Tikano (the teacher in and director of Battle Royale) day, and I wanted to see Battle Royale on a big screen.

It was so worth it. It hits you so much more on a big screen, with the sound also more powerful and captivating. It makes me want to learn to speak Japanese.

We went to Mr Wu's after, an all-you-can-eat Chinese restaurant which has pretty decent food (but the most sour-faced waiting staff). I had my fill of greasy but tasty food, and me and Pete went to walk to the Tube station at Piccadilly Circus to go home.

Don?t ask me why I suggested popping into HMV, I'm not certain myself. Of course, I ended up spending money that I don?t really have (thankyou overdraft!) on things that I don?t really need.

On the plus side, I walked out with City of God on DVD, a Japanese horror film called The Eye, and a double CD by a band called My Ruin. I have a thing for female vocals over metal music, I think it sounds fucking cool. Bands like Kittie, Otep, Lacuna Coil, Haste and so on and so forth float my boat musically.

I haven?t got round to watching the DVDs yet, but the CD is really good. Very powerful and emotive stuff, and the vocalist is very talented. I like the huge chugging riffs that pound along throughout, they really get my head banging.

Unfortunately, Wednesday also turned into a do-no-work day. I really, really intended to, but just couldn?t find the enthusiasm to sit down and crack on with the work that needed doing. It just didn?t happen.

I went into the centre of London at 6 to go for drinks with one of my classes and our tutor. He?s a very cool guy, and we really appreciate it when he takes us out for drinks like this, because he doesn?t have to. Whilst in the pub, I noticed that they were wanting bar staff, so I gave them my name and number, and asked them to ring me the next day. Did they ring me? Did they bollocks. Bastards.

After leaving that pub, I went to the student union (The Waterfront) to watch the Arsenal ? Chelsea Champs League game. Tell a lie, we went to the Walkabout bar at Temple first, but that was unbearably busy, so we went up to the Waterfront for the second half.

Whilst at the Waterfront, I was convinced / persuaded to go out that night, whether it be to Ministry (of Sound) or the Gardening Club. After a shitload of walking around, trying to get into various places, I ended up in Gardening Club with Leigh, one of my housemates. I wasn?t overly drunk, nor was I particularly in the mood for it, so I left after a fairly short time and caught the night bus home.

The next morning, I was feeling a little hungover, even though I hadn?t drank a huge amount. I just about made it to my class at 1, and by the time it finished I was feeling a whole lot better. Unfortunately, I then had to go home and crack on with doing my other piece of coursework, a 3,500 word essay due in the next day.

I worked fucking hard that day, trying desperately to read as many articles as possible and to cram as much information as physically possible on the subject of community punishments into my head. I started writing, and was still going at midnight, when I received a text message.

'Who from?' I hear you cry. Well, dear reader, that story will have to wait until another day.

Probably tomorrow.


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