Big Pulp Summer 2012 and Dividing By Zero

My copy of Big Pulp Summer 2012 arrived while I was away, and what a treat it is. A very high standard of writing and production, and I’m delighted to be a contributor. So I’ll be a bit quiet for a while as I read on …

Or will I? I’ve been away, and meanwhile, my efforts on the writers’ website Authonomy haven’t done so badly. I’m keeping my work there until something better comes along …

Such as Linkedin. I’m improving my Linkedin profile because it allows me to promote my writing in a professional way, and it isn’t a social networking site, (or is it?). I’ll soon find out.

To misquote Kennedy’s Bay of Pigs joke “The worse I do, the more popular I get”, the more I social network, the more outside the social network I become. Leave it alone for two weeks, and my ranking improves. Eh? This is because I don’t pursue the dreaded consensus. My social networking potential is zero. I actively follow the path of most resistance. That’s how art works. And on a computer, dividing by zero can cause havoc. I wonder whether the algorithm that drives Facebook and Authonomy can cope. I think I know the answer – an emphatic NO.

It’s a feature of the algorithm that drives social networking, that it sweeps along the consensual Nielsen data A1 herd all sharing the same product aware aspirations. I don’t accept that a computer algorithm, a simple formula, should be allowed to form groups and polarise society in this way.

On a positive note, the social networking algorithm appears to be failing. There’s a decline in the take-up of Facebook, and I think I know why this is. There are many zero-rated people with no social networking potential out there. It would be perverse and against the consensus to say why I know this is so. Meanwhile I’m reading Big Pulp Summer 2012 and keeping quiet. But I will whisper BlackBerry. Whoops! Divide by zero error.

Wagner Is Terrible Grrr I’m So Angry

He’s a troublemaker! Awful! Storming in on Mary like that. Hairy, philandering and German sounding although he’s Brazilian. He reminds me of Jedwed and that makes me angrier although I’ll never stop watching X-Factor.

Anyway, I’m onto my fourth mobile phone in a year which corresponds exactly to my number of addresses since 2006. Going back as far as 1995, I’ve lived at a number 114, 43, 31, 44, and 32.

My Samsung mobile phone was so hard to use I gave up and got a new one. That means complicated work with a soldering iron to get the contacts list back. That’s a joke. Actually, I’m very technically minded, and I find that restoring the contacts list for the fourth time, whether it’s saved to the phone or the SIM, is child’s play.

I just saw two jays in the garden. I don’t remember ever seeing jays before. On Saturday we did a lot of gardening and revealed parts of the garden that haven’t seen light for many years. Sunday was too wet for gardening, hence a rare bit of hoovering. Mundane but then a lot of things are.

Months on with the new house and expensive brand new parts, such as a loo and a sink, mean constant worries that they’re already worn out and broken. Living with something cracked and decrepit is much easier than having new. Living in a rented house is heaven in that respect. Every dripping tap, cracked basin, loose curtain poles, collapsing towel rail, windows that wouldn’t shut, steamed up double glazing. All music. But now nothing is relaxing. Even new things. Socialising with friends in the pub for the first time for ages last night was fun though. I ate too much, drank too much, spent up. What am I like?

The previous house owners took their dovecote with them wheeling it down the road using a sack trolley when they moved out. A dovecot is a white wooden house that doves live in, or pigeons mostly. But now they’re consumed with guilt and they want us to have it back. That means I have to go down the road with my sack trolley to haul it back. Can’t say I’m in a hurry to relieve them of a dovecote I don’t want. On the other hand, I could break it up and burn it on the stove.

Anyway, I not over my Wagner rage. I hate Wagner but I love XFactor.

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