Five years left to cry in

[alexsarll]

Those of you who've been paying attention may notice that my Current Music all December has been christmas music, and today it's not. Why so? Well, there's a lot of good christmas music one can't sensibly listen to during the rest of the year, but there are even fewer occasions when it makes so much sense to listen to songs about being five years from the end of the world. Which is not to say that I am definitely expecting the Eschaton - I've seen far too many supposed Last Days pass for that (though I do remember being terrified on my first one, back in the eighties. Stupidly, I don't remember the date, only the fear, and being pulled around in a sledge by my parents, which helped somewhat). It's more that I see the world filled with so many vectors towards a bad apocalypse (climate change, superbugs, fundamentalism, the list goes on) that if I want to feel any hope at all for the future, it seems worth half-believing that a good apocalypse might arrive first. I'm all too aware that we might all wake up on December 22nd 2012 having made no evolutionary leap to the hypercontext, no contact with benevolent aliens, no progress at all. But the chance that we might seems distinctly more plausible than the alternative. The effort and ingenuity of the small portion of humanity who understand how bad things are being sufficient to get us out of this hole? That's just crazy talk.

Maddening selection of good gigs on Wednesday, but I couldn't abandon the annual Jeays extravaganza. Not quite so crowded this year - I think maybe the advance sales backfired, with people who knew they wouldn't get seats deciding not to bother. But still excellent. Peacock still does one song I really like ("you change and adapt"), and the Speech Painter finally deployed some (not bad) new material even if I am now convinced he's Sylar (watchmaker by day + eyebrows). And Jeays was on fine form, complete with messiah complex, no navel and a really good corduroy frock coat-type-thing. Maybe it was a duster, I've never been entirely sure what dusters are. Our numbers came up, so that was 'Richenda' and 'Midnight In Trieste' guaranteed, and the rest of the crowd didn't choose anything too dreadful.

As against the genteel Jeays show, all civilised and seated, Patrick Wolf's crowd look like the cast of Skins let loose on a Manics fan's wardrobe (except that like so many real young people, most of them are not actually that attractive when you stop and look). This goes double for Wolf himself: in the flesh he looks about 12, and may I be permitted a rockist moment if I say that I found the raven he was wearing on his head for the early set somewhat distracting? He clearly doesn't have an insincere bone in his body, which is essential if you're going to go this OTT musically while dancing in the fake snow against a backdrop of giant snowflakes. He's a star like they used to make, except somehow more fragile. I think part of what makes me feel so old watching him is that at the back of my mind I can't help but worry about him, especially in light of his live problems earlier this year (no sign last night, thank heavens).

Oh yeah, and speaking of feeling old - my birthday's all been organised by Facebook and email this year, hasn't it? If I don't know you via those channels then you're probably a creepy stalker and not even a very good one - December 27th, The Noble, Crouch Hill, from 7pm.

Comments

[darkmarcpi.livejournal.com]

I don't think I got an email about your birthday and I certainly didn't get a Facebookmail, or whatever they're called. I had the date in my diary anyway though. LJ does have some uses.

I suppose I should get a Facebook in the NY, though I could always just wait for whichever social networking site that will inevitably supplant Facebook in the public's affections.

[barrysarll.livejournal.com]

For some reason I always forget that you don't have a Facebook. But yes, I knew that putting it on here would catch a few other channels had missed, I just put it at the end of a load of apocalyptic rambling as a sort of loyalty reward. And of course, people I see around the place like yourself, I've probably invited via 'speechmail'.

LJ certainly has its uses, but for event planning Facebook is definitely better. I hope that they each concentrate on their strengths, and learn to coexist - the alternative would leave a lot of scorched earth online, and lead to more embarrassing spectacles like the Myspace redesign.

I would contend - although if I'm right it ruins Charles Stross' excellent Glasshouse - that once a certain proportion of the populace is using any system, that system's survival in at least the medium term is assured. So, loads of files are locked up in old Amstrad word-processing software and various other formats - but Word is now so widespread that I doubt any future system will be unable to at least read Word files. Similarly, Facebook has crossed over in such a way that I think its survival is now assured - where its predecessors were each appealing to people already online, and fickle, this is luring those who never previously thought to use the net socially. The norms, in other words.

[pippaalice.livejournal.com]

Alex this is a non locked post. What if a weirdo (who isn't me) comes along? Oh NOES!

[barrysarll.livejournal.com]

The problem is, there are some people I know and like who read this but don't have LJs themselves. Also, they'd need to be rolling pretty deep to present a threat given the number of RSVPs I've already had...

[barrysarll.livejournal.com]

Also there is already one person on the FB event where I have no idea who they are. I can only assume they're staying with someone I know, but they might be totally random...

[superba]

and may I be permitted a rockist moment if I say that I found the raven he was wearing on his head for the early set somewhat distracting?

:D!

[barrysarll.livejournal.com]

It only lasted a few songs - it looked pretty heavy, and he's a wee slip of a thing.

[diamond-geyser.livejournal.com]

Huzzah, I am now caught in your invitation net, and will successfully be back in London in time for such drinks.

Also, here's fun, the meaning of a person "definitely expecting the Eschaton" becomes that much more entertaining when the internet suggests that could be a fictional tennis game played in aDavid Foster Wallace novel.

[barrysarll.livejournal.com]

None of which I have ever read, though I do have a non-fiction one of his about infinity. Quite a slim book, ironically.