Saturday, June 28, 2008

Today I decided I wanted an account on a website called ''. When I went to their sign up page I found to my dismay that they were in what is known as a 'closed beta'.
A 'closed beta' is where they have a functional product but are still limiting its use to a small group of hand-picked test users. Traditionally a 'closed beta' would be the step before an 'open beta' where the software or service is expected to be fully functional but lacking polish. But in the case of this website I suspect the 'closed beta' will lead to a full release.
Their sign up page has details.

Upon reviewing their sign up page I decided it would probably be best for me to send them a communique requesting access to their closed beta.
The message is preserved below:

It seems to me that is all about laziness. A website that will stop me from having to go to the trouble of checking both twitter and plurk.
Naturally this a service I as a slacker (see would like to avail of.
Your sign up page essentially gave me what I chose to consider two options: I could either google to find one the "many sources providing them" or "send [you] a message and try to swindle an account from [you]".
In keeping with what i feel is the spirit of I tried to gauge which of these two options would involve the least amount of work for me.
Of course this is very hard to determine from the given starting position: but an email is always fairly easy and convenient however a google search can be very unreliable, especially when one is trying to gain a limited resource. So I chose to appeal instead to your organisation directly to grant me access to your exciting new service.

So how about it, may I have a beta key?

Oh and it goes (oxymoronically) without saying that if you ever attempt to charge for this service I will make and escape so swift I will leave an Ankhwatcher shaped cloud behind me.

Your sincerely,

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

The Longest Day - 21/06/2008

On Saturday the 21st of June I attended a Phantomfm.
Many notes were made into my small Moleskin notebook that night. They are expanded below:
(Notes: The Longest Day had started for me at 8am and had involved a great deal of standing, I didn't really want to be at this gig. I just felt I should be. As a result of this most of my notes were angry whingings and complaints.)

The first performers took the stage, the band CODES.
Codes specialised in hugely-generic could-be-anybody rock.

I've taken position standing around at the back of the plush, carpeted hall enjoying a heated debate about which advert we had heard this "undiscovered" "indie" band on.
And why the fuck am I listening to indie in this fucking carpeted, soft-lit, cube-stool infested hell-hole anyway?
This isn't Rock and Roll.

I think I'm the only person here in a band t-shirt*: Man I hate my generation.
*Rolling Stones. I bought it in Temple Bar. It's really cool.

Considering challenging people to tic-tac-toe to break the monotony.
-I would, but the problem is... I'm shit at tic-tac-toe. The best I can ever do is stalemate.

Jesus Christ!
Codes are dedicating Every Fucking Song!
They probably think they'll never be on stage again. I hope their right.

I've found the balcony... Seems like a good place to spit on the acts from.

CODES - So generic they practically fade into the ambient noise.

The Kinetics Take The Stage
They seem better - Could be the placebo effect.

On the next page of my notebook is a drawing of a tall table. This was used to illustrating a point. The point was something about tables...

Things to say before leaving the upstairs balcony:
You stay here, I'm going to punch-out the lead singer.
I had originally intended to write more, but instead I went downstairs in search of adventure.

This band likes to end every song like it's the end of the set. A lot of "Thank you!"'s irritating.

Why do so many of the wankers* have curly hair?
*I meant the audience... and maybe one of the band.

Bah! This is a good song.
I think I would require a high intake of Jack Daniels to enjoy it... But doing JD shots on my own... that can't be a good idea.

The next page features a sketch of a pair of legs, ending in large ugg boots with the legend "I'm trying to draw a still-life of a pair of fucking ugg-boots! Get out of the fucking way!"
I hope that's self explanatory.

The page after features two badly drawn boxes, scribbled out. And the legend: "Bah. Can't draw a cube. Might as well draw the damned Easter Bunny."
I'm not sure how the Easter Bunny got involved in it... presumably it made sense at the time.

The next few entries are very scattered, I'll attempt to explain them as I go.
Upon seeing a girl with a quite broad face, lots of blond hair and very short-shorts:
I wonder if anyone has ever told that girl she looks like Dolly Parton?

Feeling I was using my notebook as a cover for my general feeling of pointlessness stemming from my inability to enjoy music for music's sake I wrote:
Take refuge in a notebook.
It's a slogan. Of sorts.

Then after attempting to move my left foot and finding much more difficult than one would expect:
Fucking sticky floors - Every surface not covered in carpet it coated in fucking glue.

"Where are you from?"
I've never had a decent answer to that one.

I'm from Dublin, Ireland. But the reason why you are asking is because my voice sounds different. It's partly because I was born in the states, but it's really from watching too much British TV.

Ham Sandwich Take The Stage.

Current position: Dance floor.
Current thought: Wish I still had my sunglasses.

Lead guitarist reminds me of the character who said "It's" at the start of every Monty Python's Flying Circus Episode.

Second string and bassist seem to be hiding at the edges of the stage.

Lead singer is dressed in that grey sacking and Black Belt thing from the eighties that doesn't look good on anyone.
Lead Guitarist is dressed as a male whore.

Fuck me these lights are nuts! I should have brought a hat!

Some Mop-Haired cunt is using me as a back-rest while the lighting technician tries to weed out the epileptics from the herd.

Second string looks like he is going to faint from heat exhaustion.
Perhaps he should take off his jacket?

I'll nod along and smile. That'll fool them into thinking I have a sense of rhythm.

Oh good, the second string took off his jacket. Looks much happier now.

I think "The Raging Homophobes" would be a great band name.

Ah Dublin. Everyone is a cover band.
For An Encore Ham Sandwich Play 'Material Girl'.
Seems an odd choice - as far as I can tell the lead singer is actually dressed as Kim Wilde. Kids in America would seem a more synchronous option.

And finally:
Next time I'm bringing some CIF! I can't move my bloody feet!

After that I scarpered. Stopping only to tell some pretty-young-thing from New York that her and her friends were going the wrong way across Dame St. to get to Temple Bar.

Long fucking day eh?
-ANkh loves you.