Cyber Lemons to Literary Lemonade...

THEY SAY THAT TIME, CHANCE AND SERENDIPITY will, with the right attitude, eventually turn sour old lemons into whizzy sparkling glorious lemonade!


I hope that's happening to me.

The boss-man at the internet café I used to frequent has always had a snotty, imperious attitude; particularly to me. I get the impression he considers himself above running a cybercaff from late morning till well past midnight seven days a week. A disinfectant-stinking cubicled-off emporium full of a multinational throng gabbling loudly (especially in Italian and Somali, for some reason), which annoys him. He's always telling happy customers to pipe down. Otherwise they are noshing on smelly kebabs (which he can't complain about as his staff (who are all family) get food sent round for themselves from the restaurant on the corner, laughing loudly at webcam exchanges (he hates any sound of happiness) and sometimes viewing porn. I once found myself seated next to a furtive odd guy who seemed to be wearing excessive layers of leather jackets (there was this loud sound of unzipping...)... then I looked ostentatiously over and realized this character was not merely viewing obscenities but taking a more active role... if you see what I mean. Hastily I logged out and fled in horror and had to take an especially large shot of heroin to blank the indelible imagery from my head...

All this goes on and yet he chose to have a real go at me the other night - me a faithful account holder who gives them cash every week - not for doing any of those things but for (apparently) :- changing seats too many times over the course of an evening...

"Why do you do this? Why you changing computer?" he loudly demanded. (Yes he's foreign.)

I wasn't aware I HAD committed the crime of excessive seat-swapping... but anyway I told him why. Because my first workstation had crashed. Then on the next I fell foul of the dreaded popups-blocker, which makes commenting on many blogs impossible. (My main blog is usually set for comments on a new page; my others use pop-up windows so if you've got a video playing it carries on as you comment... you can alter these settings quite easily. The pop-up window also makes it harder to click in and out of blogs commenting as you'll end up with window laid over window until eventually the system threatens meltdown... hmmm...) So I told Snottystein this: that it had crashed and then the pop-up blocker...

"Oh blah blah blah blah blah," he blustered. "If you do this again I cancel your account."

Your computer does not work. When it happens again (note when not if as these things happen all the time) I will show you."

He waved a dismissive hand. "No changing seats. Or your account is cancel."

"I said yeah yeah yeah and proceeded to studiedly ignore him. I have no time for people who ask "why?" and then will not hear my answer.

When I ventured outside for a cigarette he harangued me yet again. Repeating the same one point made earlier. Like a fool I tried my explanation again but he still wasn't listening.

That's another reason I change seats. Because in the course of an evening (I did used to spend many (slightly) happy hours in there...) I always do log out, smoke (or drink!) and return. And sometimes my original seat is taken. Or I naively take a new one only to find no headphones... meaning no radio or anything like that...

Those whose minds are already made up don't notice reasonable reasons why. They only see aberration upon abberation until they're convinced something fishy is afoot.

The good thing about that cybercafé was their late opening times. And the fact you could always get straight on a computer without queueing... on reflection I can see why.

The best thing about that place was the impassioned arguments that flared up from time to time from customers who thought Snottystein had wronged them... these were always good entertainment. Especially the one with the thumb-flicking Italian woman when a whole van-load of police had to come...

My new netcafé is always calm. And the staff are helpful. Not slimy like Snottystein's eldest son who is dismissive to me who didn't get which drive did which A, B or C but smarming all over any female who doesn't understand the shift key. They open earlier each morning but are shut long before midnight. I've switched my account here and, surprise surprise can no longer procrastinate my energy any more on post-midnight web browsing when I'm supposed to be writing. My memoirs are coming on whizzingly. That's what I meant about lemons and lemonade. Every frought or offensive situation might have a surprisingly good outcome. Every cloud has a silvery lining. And one arrogent, snotty man's foul attitude has helped me transform sour old procrastinating cyber-lemons ~ hopefully ~ into autobiographical lemonade..!

TUNE OF THE DAY:
Age of Love: with snazzy video
Age of Love: Jam & Spoon best mix.

Paper!

LAST NIGHT I WROTE OUT AN EXTENSIVE POST. Now, by clear light of day it seems exceedingly longwinded and I'm loath to sit here typing all that out. Today I've been sorting through rubbish (my possessions~ haha!!) in the search for the right paperwork with which to furnish one of my creditors. The task is now done. And I'm merely killing time? Relaxing? Procrastinating actually photocopying said piece of paper and sending it, with another with a couple of boxes ticked or exxed back to whatever company. Man ~paper! If only they could have seen ahead when we were still engraving replica birds' feet in cylinders of clay these mountainous avalanches of forestfellingly useless paper that trail us throughout our everyday existence uselessly mouldering in bags and cabinets and drawers ~some considered so valuable they're airlocked behind several inches of lead~ this is the stuff our very existence is made of. Even in this so-called age of the fibreoptic worldwide internet connexion paper still rules. And whoever predicted that with the rise of computers would come the fall of paper must be turning in his grave. Computers waste more paper than anything else in the world. And the records they store and create are almost invalid without a "hard copy" to back them up, prove that they are real. Anyone who's suffered a long period of drug dependency or mental illness will have noticed the bulk of files upon which their very existence is supposedly recorded. The KGB and Stazi archived enormous bulks of basically malicious gossip against anyone who seemed too individual for their totalitarian political system ... and so I could go on but this rant has to end somewhere.

Paper!

Aaarrghhh~kkk!