Wednesday, 26th February 1997
Came in, took off my hat, scarf, coat and gloves. Basia comes up and says there are some acetates at the new building we need photocopying, would I be a dear, so I put on my gloves, coat, scarf and hat and went out again. Good start to the day actually, got an extra 20 minutes of Sly and the Family Stone which I wouldn't've otherwise so there you go. Eerily quiet over there, though.
Wonderful to hear Janet Jackson's stalker is claiming to be both her husband AND Jesus Christ. That's like two loonies for the price of one. It's bargains like that that're worth the loss of privacy and inevitable sheltering of the soul.
Do you like good music? Yeah, yeah? Like sweet soul music? Yeah, yeah? Meh, bores the tagnuts off me. Especially what passes for soul in the '90s; processed, rehashed, soulless dance-oriented owl-pellets emitted by an endless stream of cloned American talent-vacuums. R Kelly? R Soul more like, and you could say that to his face without him catching on 'cos he's as immundicogniscent as the rest of his countrymen and wouldn't know an anglicism if it knocked him off his chopper.
B(enophobia)
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