The Novel is the Monster

Self exploration is never easy. If you're open to the idea in the first place, willing to take on and tackle head-first what you believe in, what you think of to be true, your own beliefs and ideals, thoughts and concepts, then I believe you're a step ahead of a lot of people already. If then you take all of those ideas and belief systems and put them on paper, in an effort to really discover what you are, and potentially further down the line, have some sort of impact, then that's another step ahead, of a lot of people. A push to better yourself, to self-actualize and commit to something through a process of deep thought, exploration, analysis and discovery. It's all good stuff, and it brings out sides of your personality you thought you never had.

I know, it's a situation I'm currently in the middle of, it's a voyage I am currently undertaking and it's a twisted beast that's unrelenting and fascinating at the same time.

And in light of this blogs theme, some could say I am on a technologically fueled hedonistic quest of the highest order. Using my ability to add to, to research, to share and discover new parts of my being through a social media, my EEEp and a WIFI or 3G connection. A quest of self discovery, literary desire and technological competence to incite change in myself and with hope of possessing hearts and minds of others down the line.

From here on in this blog is on permanent hiatus whilst I concentrate on my first novel and attempt to discover more about myself than I ever have.

You can read about the progress of this novel if you are interested at http://www.cementum.co.uk

Class divide on the internet

Just who are the glitterati of the internet? The geeks? The bands? Who are the aristocrats? Mass owners of land in second life? A high-level dwarf in World of Warcraft? Hard to tell at this juncture, and I have little time to think about it at the moment.

Suffice to say, is danah boyd, a PhD student in the School of Information at Berkeley, has been looking into this realm for the last four years, and just the other day, one of her recent papers kicked up a right stink across the net…getting down to brass tacks and saying Facebook is for the wealthy, educated, middle-classes and Myspace is for every other deviant subculture under the sun. HAH, how I laughed.

I wouldn’t care to agree or disagree just at the moment, I wish I had more time to read her blog, it’s terribly interesting, and actually makes me quite jealous of her insight an the respect she commands. I’ll broach this subject again once I’m in possession of all the facts and can really hit it hard, in the time being I thought any readers might be interested in the argument itself, and the fuss it’s caused online.

On a side note, there are changes ahead, namely a re-design, it was always in the pipeline, as I don’t like these generic blogger templates, and now my designer friend has a bit of time on his hands he’s getting cracking. So things will go missing, stuff will appear, problems may strike, we’ll see how it goes.

More soon.

Presence updaters and Shane Macgowan

The social presence revolution is all starting to kick off as far as I’m concerned. Most people will only know about this though their facebook ‘Richard is doing blah blah’, and probably won't even realise they're part of a wider picture when they put on all manner of applications to their Facebook profile.

Alas, the real revolution is rocking this way, giving people the facility to see what their friends, loved ones, family members and even favourite personalities online, are doing at any given moment throughout the day. It’s 24/7 surveillance, except with this Big Brother, you can turn it off.

I currently rock Jaiku, Facebook and Twitter on occasion, although I’ve yet to set it up properly so my feed is coming off my Jaiku account. Robert Scoble, is pushing his omnipotence, the pros and cons of each part, on us with a recent blog post, he say’s there’s something interesting going on that we should all be aware of, I’m inclined to agree.

It’s a tough on to call though, whether it really will be incorporated by the masses or just left for us geeks who continue to believe we’re ‘right on the edge, above the curve, living in a technological space, right out of the box... man’ or whether the ‘normies’ will actually pick-up on any of this sort of stuff.

On a technological and hedonistic level, I believe it’s about staying in the loop, and having the facility to do it anywhere, any time, keeping right on top of what everyone is doing all the time. I was in a pub on Saturday somewhere in north London, good times, good music, reasonable prices and Shane Macgowan sat in the corner, HA. The point is I could have loaded up Jaiku, or Twibbler, geo tagged a post and let the friends that I have on my contact list know exactly where I was, what I was getting up to, and told them to get down for some awsomeness.

I didn’t as it happened as I was a little to drunk, and totally forgot about the ‘presence updater revolution’ at the time, in favour of some ‘real life’ hedonistic pursuits, one of which was losing my mind.

Where will it all go? Who knows? And in the light of wanting to keep these posts relatively short, I’ll end it there, leave the question open, and maybe address it again soon. Lets see how it goes.

I’ve got so much to talk about here at the moment but the lack of internet at my house is a serious drag on my want and ability to blog on a personal level. But there you go.

More soon

Gadgets, technology and the history of man

With all the god damned hubbub that’s taking place around the iPhone at the moment, the wired blog has taken it upon themselves to put it firmly in its place, get a real perspective on things, and ask their readers in a good old fashioned poll, what they think the greatest gadget EVER is.

Hedonism and technology have gone hand-in-hand from the dawn of time, from the first flickers of fire heating up fine cooked meat, to the humble toilet bringing forth sanitary and an all around more pleasant atmosphere to modern civilization.

Calling fire a gadget is pushing the boundaries, defined by the internet a gadget is officially:

"A small specialized mechanical or electronic device; a contrivance."

Some online dictionary

So everything else in their list easily falls into this remit, from the combustion engine – my personal favourite – to the personal computer. What exactly is the greatest ever is something that could obviously rage on forever. The iPhone is clearly not the greatest, it’s average at best, the Nseries N95, which I currently sport, wipes the floor with it in most departments and it’s already freely available.

I’d also submit Lego, simply for it’s awesomeness, whilst some would argue there’s no real practical use, Lego art is just one example of how this work of engineering and technological genius is moving leaps and bounds ahead of what it was originally set out for. In fact, I’m going to start blogging more about Lego, I invisage a world made of Lego, and not just the miniature ‘Lego World’ I visited in Blackpool as a child.

On a side note, I still have no serious internets at home, so I’m staying late at work and blogging from here, which sucks, I still want to get my head wrapped around a few cool ideas I’ve been introduced to but don’t have the inclination to at work. Very annoying.

More Lego and more other stuff tomorrow.

Faster blogger! Kill! Kill!

Just a quick one tonight, I’m still at work, 13 hours so far, hitting the road soon, but inline with the subject of this post, and the general blog theme, may I present to you the Razer titanium-clad Boomslang Collector's mouse, a very awesome piece of kit for you gamers out there and anyone any geek who appreciates the finer things in life.


It’s a genuine limited edition, 10k to be made and the DreamHack expo in Sweden on June 16 is expected to have the info on pricing and whether or not it will use a High-DPI optical sense or opt for laser tracking.

Arh, all this fuss over a mouse?! Well, who’s to say? In yester-year it may have been a fine fur, rubies, metals, and whilst those goods a still touted as high-end hedonism in many respects, the people that abuse them now are, how should I put it? Often out of the loop? HAH.

Well I told you it was going to be a quick one.

More soon.

MTV generation 2.0

Ye Gods! I can wait until the mainstream press picks up on the likes of this malarkey, the coined phrase, at the beginning of its evolution I’m guessing, is ‘The Attention Crash,’ and by god, it’s pretty accurate right at this infantile level.

It revolves around the human capacity to absorb information, and those of us who work in the social media, with computers, marketing, PR, this ethereal environment where so much money flys around, so little gets done, but so much is accomplished. Steve Rubel kicked things off by simply saying;

“We are reaching a point where the number of inputs we have as individuals is beginning to exceed what we are capable as humans of managing. The demands for our attention are becoming so great, and the problem so widespread, that it will cause people to crash and curtail these drains. Human attention does not obey Moore's Law.”

Steve Rubel, 11/06/07

The one thing that always stuck out in my mind about the MTV Gernation, which I’m gladly a part of, was our lack of any sort of decent attention span. Well, fuck me, as I’ve grown and my inputs have kept up, my attention span has drifted to what I think is around 3 or 4 seconds. That’s generally how long I’ll stay looking at one thing, email, blog, twitter, jaiku, facebook, myspace, last.fm, imdb, plazes…the infinite list of social tools. Terrible.

Hugh Macleod obviously had his own succinct opinion on the matter in hand, which as usual also hit the nail on the head.

“Of course, this web-enabled, stressed-out success model isn't anything new. Since the dawn of time, to get anything interesting done in this world pretty much requires one kissing normal life good-bye. This sudden mass overload of input we're constantly witnessing is just one more example of it. One of many. Same as it ever was.”

Hugh Macleod, 12/06/07

I think I’m in an interesting position though, as Hugh says, “to get anything interesting done in this world pretty much requires one kissing normal life good-bye,” I’ve pretty much always know the life I’m leading now, although now I’m getting paid for it. Blogging, jumping into technology and the social media, I grew up with it, this fast paced, action packed ride of geekery and hedonism, it is what I do, and have over the last decade (since I was about 13), so it’s no different.

I love it, every minute, apart from my increasingly apparent lack of attention that is, HAH…it’s the future-boyo. So where am I? I work 60 hours a week, I play 50 hours a week and sleep the rest, it’s brilliant, give me more, I want to absorb everything. What are your thoughts? Lunacy or progression? I can't seem to agree with this '4-Hour Workweek' stuff, what the hell am I going to do with the rest of my time if i'm not absorbing information that I like? Play golf? Go fucking swimming with dolphins? FUCK THAT, GIVE ME EVERYTHING ALL AT ONCE. I'll chew it up and ask for seconds, some might that’s young naivety, but I’m fine with that, when the hell else am I going to have the chance to balls up what I’m saying? So there it is.

More tomorrow.

Build ‘em big, build ‘em fast

That’s what I say, nuke the rainforest, throw up gigantic scrapers of the sky that protrude like terrible stalagmites of doom. Surround me with concrete, awash in a sea of grey and strangers, orange light and thick air. That’s me, a brutalist at heart, I love the nature of intrusive architecture, maybe because I’m some sort of terrible 80’s Wall Street driven, power tie, cigar smoking beast. I actually think is has more to do with my technological influences during my youth, but that’s a different blog all-together.

For now we’ll concentrate on the 3000ft Burj Dubai. Monument. Jewel. Icon. Don’t take my word for it, A-rabs in Dubai have been playing with words and came up with those three. I’d tend to agree, this beast is a testament to the long development of human architecture and, as far as I’m concerned, just totally outstanding in every aspect.



It’s a beautiful spectacle, and almost at the pinnacle of this theme that I try and write about, the combination of hedonism and modern technology. There’s literally nothing quite like this building, and as soon as it’s built I’m going to visit, and do my best to dominate it, as I have done with a wide array of other earthly structural monuments.

Anyway, I love this building, and the fantastic thing for you green types out there, it’s surprisingly environmentally friendly, just read the spec over at their site.

Now, it’s hot, I’m bothered, and I want some food and then some cider. So I’m off, into the fray once again

More tomorrow.

Hedonism and technology

Okay, less of my astounding political and social insight in this post (HA) and more straight-up technology that can benefit us in hedonistic ways, short and too the point as somewhere in this damned city there’s beer to be drunk.

MIT have been developing their magnetically coupled resonator technology that essentially allows for wirelessly powered…well anything hopefully. NO MORE WIRES! FOR ANYTHING THOUGH WITRICITY!

The one thing that I always thought would hold us down, how to actually get power to something without wires, okay yeah there’s batteries and possibly fuel-cells but this is a much more viable option and will prove for some very exciting times in the future, I’m hoping at least.

Secondly there’s Steam Punk, I’ll probably do a slightly more in-depth post on this one day and the guys behind it, but it never fails to impress and if I ever get any serious cash, everything I own will be calibrated in a steam punk fashion.


Just look at this wonderful set up, post-modern to the hilt, outstanding work as always, I’ll definitely combine this with my Witricity for some serious aces.

More tomorrow.

Too many questions, too little time

I wish I could say the last few weeks were marred by entirely unprecedented events, however, they were not. Again, far too much excess in the form of alcohol and pain, bad crazies and liquid weirdness that was highlighted randomly with bouts of technological deliberations and a few beautiful women, neither however did I manage to fully satisfy; oh the tragedy.

Time to get a grip, take hold and make haste, Gordon Gekko had it right, taking the 80’s apart the only way he knew how, lust, power, greed, technology.

“Got to monitor my blood pressure, so
whatever you do, don't upset me…
Within 45 seconds, a microprocessor
computes your systolic and
diastolic pressure. Has an LCD
readout, and it's cost effective --
less than one visit to the doctor”

Gordon Gekko, Wallstreet, 1987

I’ve been trying to balance things with only a modicum of success; extremes in the wrong departments have, however, been detrimental to fulfilment and the good old adage of ‘self-actualization’. On the whole I’ve been entirely consumed with my work, the new job, chasing the dream…I’m getting close to figuring out what it is, and I believe it lies within the recesses of the internet. The ugly brute is changing, a shape-shifting beast that is becoming all consuming, empowering the people and emasculating the companies. ‘Taking the power back’ one might say…fucking wait a minute, slow right down…generations have been saying that since the land before time, regaining the power from the bad, giving to the good, what the fuck do we have now? Robin Hood living in his mother’s basement, making a difference whilst all the while sat calmly in a room held steadily between 70 and 72 degrees Fahrenheit.

No, wait, there are two parts to this story, to what I’m trying to say. Lets stick with one for now, attempt a short exercise at exploration, to reiterate; chasing the dream...Now, my personal goals have generally always lay at polar opposites, on one hand wanting to be the avant-garde sort, all floaty, wearing black, writing stories, capturing minds, raising hell, being a deviant, having the muse, the woman alongside and just riding life in the tormented yet classy fashion we’ve all become accustomed to seeing outlaws and rebels doing. However, I have in many ways always wanted to captain a nuclear trident submarine, or a Nimitz Class aircraft carrier, with clenched fists, cigar-in-mouth and pure white hair commanding fleets of men, becoming a warrior and one with humanity. I would never have said either were truly out of my reach, my natural short sightedness may have hindered me entering the Navy, but otherwise I believe I was always more than capable. Then there is the all-capturing, all-in-one bonanza dream where all wants become reality, the power, the notoriety, the infamy, the money, the women, the material possessions, everything, pure 80’s, Patrick Bateman crossed with Gordon Gekko crossed with Commander John Martix.




These parts of my personality have always played off against each other though, and one has seemingly always had the upper hand, believe it or not, this was the ‘artist’. I personally think this is the easy way out, the copout and as my sometimes awkward leapfrogging thoughts go, I begin to want to chase the money, the power, anger and might standing forth.

There is perhaps a way I can do it all, capture my dream and make it reality. With no-holds-bared relentlessness still manage to capture the hearts of writers, whilst inspiring, being looked upon in awe and commanding fleets of more than willing personnel. Now, the concept is ludicrous, the paradigm through which it can happen is beyond idiocy, but with a little bit of perseverance, some sound knowledge and learning, and a few years behind me, I think I can crack it, ladies and gentlemen, within Web2.0.

The fucking internet, it’s bigger than the biggest thing on the planet. Celebrity bloggers, vloggers, podcasters and general morons are quickly becoming a new breed of hero. Our western world is being assimilated one by one, the east is no better, constantly connected, in touch, if you’re not online you’re out of the loop pal, take notice of what’s going on if you don’t you’ll dry up and die, just like the rest of them.

The bloggers, the social-media, the social-sphere, it’s developing and I can only hope that it’s here to stay. Birthing from people’s insatiable lust for gossip and trash, it has, with the help of some people who have always been around but have how just decided to start embracing this side of the wonderful medium, become a tool for good. ‘You fucking geek,’ my friend cried, then I put together a short tale, it was called, ‘The prick who shrivled up and died’ it went something like this.

“There once was a boy who enjoyed his whiskey, he enjoyed it so much he’d go to the pub every night and get entirely wasted on whatever the landlord had to offer. Each night after ‘getting wasted’ and ‘being a deviant’ and ‘being a fucking hedonist’ he’d go back home, perhaps smoke some marijuana and fall asleep.

His friend then once told him about the new social-media and how he thought some form of revolution was taking place. ‘Bullshit’ answered the boy and carried on about his ways. His friend then went about setting up a blog concerning whiskey, he started social networking throughout the internet with other ike minded people and soon gained a reputation. After perhaps a year he had gained quite a bit of notoriety and was receiving many millions of visitors a day. He began a quest against his old friends favourite type of whiskey and soon the recipe was changed. Then he went up to the boy and told him to go fuck himself.

The boy was stood on the outside looking in, but his friend was in the loop, he’d embraced what was happening and took a piece for himself.”

Errr, Me, right now.

The point is ladies and gentlemen, that although there has been many social revolutions though-out history, there is now one happening right in the middle of the communications age. People have the ability to connect where-ever, when-ever they want on multiple plains across numerous platforms and if you are willing to embrace this, open your eyes to a movement that will continue to mushroom in a way that was never or could never have been seen with the likes of the hippies and the punks, then you’re in for a good time.

Now, we’re drifting slightly, the dream is the concern and it’s my dream… to be the jilted artist, to be the power hungry hedonist and to be the commanding warrior. Some may think it’s a copout, doing it from behind a screen, sat down, occasionally drifting off to examine my Phrenology skull or to eat some toast, and I’d agree in many respects, but it’s the best I’ve got at the moment, and it’s how I believe technology will ultimately bring me my dream.

Combing perseverance, the ethereal like social-media, my net connection whether by HSDPA, 3G, broadband or anything else, my 64x2 Turion AMD fully kitted laptop or my Core 2 Extreme X6800 desktop, my mobile multimedia computer or internet tablet and winning. Pricking at the shrouded light that is my dream, until finally there’s no material left to prick.

A tale of two technologies

Well, I’m going against what I originally penned in for this blog, again. I have been desperately trying to edit together a video that I recorded on my Nokia Nseries N93, but instead I’ve decided to write, as I have no patience for editing software these days.

Now, throughout this blog and its exploration of how hedonism and 21^st century technology meet, I’m going to set myself tasks every now and again. I don’t profess to be the most hedonistic guy in the world, far from it, I’ll often settle for second best or whatever suits. Though occasionally I will impress upon myself the need for some decadence, such an impression took place the weekend just gone, when I decided it was time for a selection of nice cigars.

Now, being relatively new to the area I had no idea where the local tobacconist was, fortunately for me we live in an age where such information is but a click away, as apposed to the more traditional flicking of pages. Anyway, one Google search later and I had my destination, seven button presses later and I had my directions, having put the postcode into my Tomtom satellite navigation system. So I shoe horned on my Vans and meandered down the street. I had approximately a mile and half to travel and thus decided to make it by foot alone. The Tomtom quietly gave me voice guided directions where needed and I followed its onscreen map without fault, although in all honesty I basically had to walk in a straight line.

However, I arrived at my destination without fail, chapped and cold, but with plenty of daylight to spare. I was welcomed inside by an elderly gentleman smoking a hand-made clay pipe and wearing a Motorhead t-shirt, quite the juxtaposition but a gamely one I thought. After exchanging pleasantries I went about explaining how I wished to buy some fine cigars, whilst remaining within the price bracket of a sane man. He directed me to the controlled atmosphere of a closed room, where the finer goods were kept.

“Nicaraguan” he said, “hand rolled.”

“Outstanding” I replied “I’ll take six.”

So we exchanged currency for goods in the usual manner and I went on my way, satisfied that technology had helped me acquire some decent cigars. This felt too easy though, like I was the racing hare yet this time I’d actually one, with little effort, and with time to spare. So I decided further treats were in-order. Not one to quibble about a decision I fancied I was in the mood for something with a Latino flavour, after-all, my cigars were of South American origin. Without delay I pulled out my mobile and began searching for somewhere I could drink a half decent sangria, and once again I was meandering down the road, following my friend Tomtom in his tutored English tone to a venue called Kazbar.

I have to admit; even the outside of this place had a distinct Latino feel to it, largely comprising of browned concrete and cheap wood, the door was medieval in fashion yet retained an air of authenticity to it that drew me in and begged me to put at its old iron hinges. We are drifting from the point in hand however; I had been suggested this place by a search engine after using 3G mobile technology on the 2.4", 320x240 pixel resolution, 262144 colour screen of my N93. I’d used my Tomtom to bring me here, and now all I needed was some Sangria to enjoy with my cigars and perhaps the company of a good woman with a Latino bloodline.

Now thus far the technology had worked, it had allowed easy sailing through out the day, I’d woken up, decided I wanted something a little removed from my daily in take and set about acquiring it in the way I know best, through utilising technology, and probably making a long-winded effort out of the whole thing. It had worked however, as I sat at the bar with my £15 jug of Spanish made sangria – they employed Spaniards at the saloon – I puffed tentatively to start on my Nicaraguan hand-rolled cigar. I say tentatively because I was still unawares of how I’d find a Spanish, or indeed Mexican, girl to top the night off. The technology I had with me could probably help in some way but I’d decided enough was enough and to run with my instincts for the rest of the night.

This is where the story becomes even more interesting. See, as I was sat there with slightly squinted eyes, observing and tasting, a young gentleman came and sat next to me. I was on the verge of giving up, three cigars and two jugs of sangria down I’d almost decided to call it a night, and then he piped up.

“Do you mind telling me where you got those cigars?” he started.

“No problem, it was actually just down the road, there is a small yet highly specialised tobacconist on High Street, excellent service, I’ll be going back soon.” I replied.

And he thanked me and turned away. I chose this juncture to excuse myself briefly, but didn’t want to lose my seat and so I decided to leave my jacket on top of the stool and ask the young sir to look after it, which he did. When I returned he asked the same of me and before coming back to the bar I noticed he shot outside, I thought the swine had ran off leaving me with some piece of incriminating evidence, I could see it there plain as sight… ‘NO NOT MINE SIR, SOME PRICK COCKSUCKER LEFT IT HERE FOR ME TO TAKE THE HEAT’ but no sooner had I thought, than he came back in and with a lady in tow. Now, at this point I was ready to leave, hearing this couple, who were quite obviously on a first date, was just a little too much; I had just about finished my last bit of sangria when the young chap ordered another jug, no harm in that, but then he proceeded to fill my glass.

“There you go, enjoy” he said.

“The fucker” I thought.

I don’t need his sympathy, but free drink is free drink, so fuck it. No sooner had he finally come around to pouring his own glass than the girl stood-up and left for the bathroom. I thought I’d break the silence and ask the question.

“How’s it going then?” I chirped up.

“Pretty well actually” he replied.

And we both sank back into our positions and sipped on our sangria. Then he turned to me with a smile and made an exhalation of laughter that obviously warrants attention, so politely I turned to him and raised my eyebrows.

“You know…” he began, “It’s the funniest thing, we actually met on the internet, though a site called Faceparty, I’m not usually up for that sort of thing but I thought it’d be worth a go, weird how technology is creeping into our lives isn’t it?”

“Fuck…” I replied, “Weirder than you can even begin to think”

“Quickly like, before she comes back, I know we’ve just met ‘n all, but she said she’s got a mate coming down in a bit, save her being a third wheel and getting in the way, you fancy sharing a few more drinks with us then seeing if you get along with her mate when she comes?”

“Yeah, fuck it, why not?”

“Great, I’m Gary, she’s Lisa, I’ll introduce you when she gets back…”

So it seemed inadvertently, technology had indeed provided me with everything that I wanted that day. From fine cigars, good sangria and now a date which, judging by the girl sat next to Gary, probably wouldn’t be of Latino origin but a good looking girl none-the-less.

My hopes were soon dashed when I saw what appeared to be a sasquatch waving through the dimly lit, smoke filled bar area. Her marauding walk made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and as I heard Gary let out a nervous cough I decided it was time to make a quiet and dignified exit, before any blood was spilled.

“Sorry Gary… Lucy… something’s just come up, you know how it is, working within the social media, web2.0, fucking search engine optimization and all that, bastards never leave me alone, just called me in, overtime yeah, but I need the money, erm, call me, we’ll do lunch.

And that was that, well almost, as I was quickly making my way to the medieval styled door, I spotted a graceful looking creature sat in a booth at the other end of the venue in the restaurant area. I thought I’d hide, give it a second and see if she has company…and then I tried my luck, which as it happened seemed to be in. She was petite, had an olive complexion and spoke in soft broken English which had the adorable trait of being pronounced from the roof of her mouth rather than the front of her teeth. We talked and ordered some more sangria, ate ‘on the house’ pistachio nuts and nattered briefly about Europe and her time in Oxford. Athalia was her name, as close as I can come to spelling how it was pronounced anyway, and she was wonderful company for the time we had.

Now, I had everything that evening, good drink, good cigars and finally good company, and through one way or another, it was brought about through technology and its use. Always bear in mind though, that it’s more often wise than not to go with gut feeling.

Let us dare to be powerful

Howdy everyone,

The tales that follow below will, in an albiet vauge fashion, help clarify the subject that I want to tackle with this blog. It’s to do with hedonism and technology, and I’m currently trying to define exactly what I’m looking for… Basically throughout the situations that you may or may not chose to read about, I was carrying my gadgets, my gizmos that kept me connected, in the loop and linked-in whilst on the run. I love that notion, going fucking insane in Acapulco on mescal and cheap beer, but all the while having the ability to connect-up, log in, blog, download, listen, watch and read. But that’s just the tip of the ice-berg, I travelled with my laptop, my 2gb memory stick, my usb memory card converter, and portable GPS, digital camera, mp3 / mp4 player, XDA portable PC and don’t forget my personalised wax seal. Does this combination of liquor, women, madness and technology put me on the brink, at the very forefront of hedonism in the 21^st century?

Who knows? Perhaps it does, and this is what I want to explore. What is hedonism in this very special time? I personally don’t believe it’s about being the rock star, the Coke fiend, the aristocrat or the ‘it’ girl. The concept takes much more now, are geeks the biggest hedonists of this day and age?

The leaps and bounds people take to secure an image of a hedonist, a life overflowing with the pleasure of the senses, know no limits. We all know fine Couture clothing, exquisite perfumes or mouth watering meats and wines are all traditionally thought of as hedonistic. Then in recent times came the drugs, the LSD, the MDMA and Cocaine. But they’re for has-beens and wanna-be’s, who the fuck cares if you do Coke anymore? I want to know the sort of mobile computer you’re packing, what widgets you have on your blog or who your favourite podcaster is. Perhaps this makes me a geek and not hedonistic at all, but the question of which arena it puts me in is not one easily answered, and it is what I am going to explore, in the only way I know how – through empiricism – and try my best to keep you entertained at the same time. Read on for some background to myself, and how I got to where I am at this present time.

Alas, I’ll give a brief update on were I am; right now. No longer roaming the ether of unemployment with booze acting as some sort of erroneous floatation device, I’m in fulltime employment and as a Copywriter no less. Getting to this stage was no easy task, let me remind you that I only listen to the Mess around; I very rarely take part in it.

Truth be told I’m currently sat on the Oxford tube (a trumped up bus service) heading into London at moderate speed for New Year’s eve, a night of drinking to be spent with the one known as Bevski. Ultimately it will be a silly, over expensive night out to end an all together overly expensive year, too much booze, too much money, not enough fun. The two aren’t always side by side – booze and money – holding hands and smiling, often they’re coupled against each others will in a disgusting arranged marriage that causes little joy and a whole lot of trouble. 2006 started with a bright spark which quickly turned into a damp squib. Prolonged months of dull work – a means to an end – that bore little fruit for the time and effort put in.

Never one to be dismayed by an unfulfilled Plan A however, I reverted to Plan B and quickly shot off to Acapulco. Chasing the dream of tequila fuelled nights, and days filled with sex and writing, I almost got what I wanted. From settling in over the first few days and discovering that, like most Anglo-Celts, my ability to consume Mescal tequila is only inhibited by my inability to control my basic motor-functions; the mind goes on but the body is unwilling, as the saying goes, I continued to solider on in the fashion that I have become accustomed to. Getting chased down the beach by angry locals, after a brief encounter with a man who appeared to have swallowed numerous basketballs, was a definite highlight; along with almost getting mauled and thrown 100ft to off a balcony by a giant Persian, who was protecting a group of naive Canadian girls.

All of this is documented here. My further travels through Los Angeles and Las Vegas did little but provide me with a vague insight into the American dream, I clawed at it myself ever-so-briefly whilst in Las Vegas, but came away a loser. I guess it’s just not in my blood, I’ll have another stab at it again someday, in a more prolonged and targeted fashion, this time around was rather sporadic in nature, which only resulted in heavy loses and a few fatalities along the way.

Then there as San Francisco, White Russians, beautiful ladies, calm days and lots of writing and one fateful answer from one very special person. In the situation that the world is in at the moment, San Fran can almost be seen as a haven in the daft empire that is America, it’s a place like none other I’ve visited and I will – without a doubt – go back there some day to try and recapture my youth and the three weeks I spent there in the summer of good ol’ ’06. My time in San Fran was so very special, I believe, because of my lack of booze, the turbulent emotional bullride that I had and then the final settling of scores, and of the thick black sediment that had shrouded my heart for such a long time.

The dream always ends though folks, life manifests a monster that will drag you away kicking and screaming. Mine was a 40 hour trip which took me about 8000 miles and involved little sleep, lots of sweat and plenty of greasy food. A brief respite in the home counties saw me recuperate slightly and head straight down to London in search of a place to live and work. A week on a couch later and I’d found the spot, West Hampstead was the area, and it was nice. I say it was nice, not because I destroyed it or caused some sort of terrible plague on the area, but because after almost two months, far too much money spent and a clash of head and concrete here and there, I have had to move, to Oxford.

My time spent in London was a mysterious one. I’ve never really been one for squalor, people write in-depth about the shit-filled existences they choose to lead for a short period of time in order to gain some ‘perspective’. It’s not something I would ever do, as I’d be shit at it. I spend too much money all the time, I couldn’t live as a tramp; I simply couldn’t. Not because I’m some sort of flaky, inter-bread aristocrat, but because I believe my sharp cunning and strong willed nature wouldn’t let me. As soon as, for instance, my 30 day experiment started, I’d automatically think, ‘how can I get myself out of this situation, what do I need to do, where can I clean, where can I get housing, how can I go about returning to society and becoming a productive citizen?’ And after two days I’d be back where I was. Anyway, I’ve lost my point. Basically I spent far too much money doing all the average things I’ve always done. My excuse was that I didn’t have enough money to do anything else, but looking back on the amounts I spent, I quite easily could have been more productive, gained more insight and taken a step closer to finding that perfect aesthetic moment only urban modernity can bring.

The highlights of London however were genuine highlights, rather than just shit bleached a different colour. Speed dating was an interesting night out, after quelling the bully inside me and concluding that the activity was not just for numb-skulls and fuck-o’s I took part and had a great night. New people, new faces, drink and the prospect of sex, it doesn’t get much better as far as I’m concerned. After finding a romantic connection with a lady, who turned out to be a decade older than me, we emailed and talked briefly but I guess I didn’t push hard enough, or I pushed too hard, who the fuck knows? Fucking women. Hah! Anyway, another highlight was a night I spent with the French, living with two of the fuckers I had a reasonable chance of making friends with one, which I did, and in turn going out with them for drinks and banter, which I also did. The night started off well, a curry in the south eastern quarter of the city and then to a shit club where I was engulfed by a shit-avalanche from which I struggled to get free. Then to a pub, at around 4am I questioned the bar tender what time the pub shut, ‘6am’ he replied in a thick brummy accent, the stupidest of accents. I was reluctant to believe him but I took his word for truth and ordered in some more booze. As the sun rose my French flatmate, Lionel, decided he needed to leave, I guess the man playing jazz flute, dressed as a wizard, I was discussing the American Patriot act with was just too much.

I decided a race was in order, styled around Phileas Fog’s around the world in 80 days. He would leave 30 minutes before me and take the bus, I would take the tube when it opened – around 6am – and the winner would be the first to arrive at the flat. At 6:30am I was leaving the pub and received a txt that he had won. ‘Fuck it then’, I though, I could do what I wanted with the rest of the day. I decided a trip to Buckingham palace would be nice, even though there was a reasonably high risk of getting shot and fatally wounded. When I arrived I had a brief chat with some San Franciscans, had a staring competition with a guard who definitely wasn’t staring back, and soaked up the atmosphere before I shot over to the Houses of Parliament. After a brief argument with some hippy swine who were protesting against depleted uranium shells I decided not a lot was happening, and I needed something to do. Not that I’m for depleted uranium, it’s just the fuckers were using a picture of a Harlequin babies (google image search those exact two words if you doubt me), which as horrific as it is, is just a natural birth defect and actually has nothing to do with Uranium. The hippy didn’t seem to realise this, and having just crawled out from his deflated tent and drinking his morning coffee probably wasn’t up to much of an argument with a man who had been drinking hard for about 16 hours previously, and was also now hardened by the bitter morning air. Anyway, after kicking up a fuss and not really getting anywhere, I finally decided to go to Sunday mass at West Minster Cathedral.

It was a pleasant experience on the whole, I couldn’t help but feel how it was all quite hocus-pocus, magic, flying with the faries bullshit. The hour and a half mass failed to move me, not because, I don’t think, I was terribly hungover and briefly fell asleep, but because as magnificent as the building was, and as glorious as the choir sang, it was all very creepy, it had a film of shit coating the whole thing that just failed to move. I did however, decide that a confessional was in order. After queuing for about 15 minutes I had had enough time to decide just what main sins I was going to confess for, that I had committed over the 12 year period that I hadn’t been to confessional. I entered, knelt down and spoke the words, ‘bless me father for I have sinned, it has been 12 years since my last confession’ the priest replied and said ‘welcome back to the church my son, what would you like to confess’ or something along those lines.

Now, what happened next killed any belief in the church I had left, or wanted to regain. I said that I had lost my faith in God and was wondering how I would regain that faith, the priest simply answered ‘would you no like to talk about the relationships you’ve had with people over the last 12 years?’ I recoiled in shock, I thought ‘fuck you slimeball’, he just entered a shitticane of epic proportions. But I was in a confessional booth so I kept my nerve and said ‘no I’d just like to figure out how to find God again’ to which he replied ‘say an act of contrition and 3 our fathers’.

What a crock of fuck. I was deeply angered by this fucker, like someone had shit in my cereal or dipped my toast in piss. No interest in helping me find God, just wanting to hear my tails of romping throughout the years. Fucking clown shoes I tell you. Fuck the church.

Anyway, again moving off the point. London was a great 2 months and although I got little writing done, in terms of my book, I did get published a few times and built up a good base of contacts that will hopefully bear fruit in the New Year. The obvious other highlight was getting to spend an increased amount of time with my best friends, Jen, Bevski and Lane… you’re alright guys.

If you’ve got this far you’re very patient, I look forward to adding more all over the Internet very soon. Updates will follow.

Your friend,

Richard.