Salad Days... As predicted yesterday was a blast. A quick burst over on Londonist followed by a quick tube ride over to New Cross and the chance to wander around Goldsmiths again. Been a while. The person introducing the afternoon of Methodology was running late, but eventually rolled in around twenty minutes later just at the tail end of a last minute impromptu introduction by one of the organisers. Now here's a tip for anyone out there who has the bad luck to get delayed in similar situations. Don't make matters worse by further delaying the keynote speaker by stubbornly pressing on with your own insipid paper. No one here is to see you, but hey, if the schedule has you down for ten minutes then we'll accommodate you. Turn up twenty minutes too late and then read a twenty minute paper cum introduction? Bad idea. That shit only flies if 1) what you have to say is interesting and 2) you can read from a sheet without stumbling over every other fucking world. I'm sure you LOVE academia and want to be taken seriously, but learn how to speak to an audience before throwing your name into any more hats. What should she have done? How about "Sorry I'm late, here's Steven Shaviro..." Crowd. Goes. Wild. Shaviro was even better in person than over on The Pinocchio Theory - and how weird to see students with photocopied handouts of a blog... If Hollywood ever gets around to making films about cultural critics then they'll probably cast Jeff Goldblum as Stephen Shaviro. He'll take out the Detroit chapter of the Hell's Angels in the opening scene with an analysis of Bataille and a few gangly roundhouse kicks. He'll also need a teen sidekick - Dakota Fanning once she fills out - to hold his notes and improvise a training bra sling shot. I'm maybe a quarter of the way into Maul as recommended by Shaviro, but I just added The Savage Girl to my list. Shakar's book was the basis for the afternoon's talk and full of wild inventive ideas (trans temporal marketing) and I'm looking forward to reading it. Maul will also feature in Shaviro's new book which we were treated to a taster of. I couldn't stick around for the full day but it was great to hear Shaviro - sorry, Professor Shaviro - and meet him briefly afterwards. The the day went slightly weird. On my way out of Goldsmiths I almost walk into a girl so I take a step back to let her through the door and we have the following exchange: Girl: Are you the blogger? Mike: The blogger? Well I'm a blogger. Girl: I thought so. Mike: Is it that obvious? Girl: No. I was looking at Professor Shaviro's website earlier and I noticed that someone had left a comment. Someone who was coming here today. A blogger. Mike: Then yes, I am the blogger. Girl: Will you be blogging the lecture? Mike: Not in any detail. I'm a lousy note taker. I recorded the whole thing so once I've listened to it again I may get something up. Girl: Cool. Mike: I will be blogging this conversation though. Girl: Great... I'll look forward to reading it. THE BLOGGER exits stage right shaking his head. Back in London Bridge I get hit on by a guy wearing too tight shorts and one hand very active in his pocket: Horny Guy: How about this weather? It makes me horny. Mike: Thank fuck there's a storm on the way then. Horny Guy: You're not horny? Mike: Dude, if I was I'd be somewhere else very very far away from you. Stuffing spaghetti into my bag is not a come on. THE HORNY GUY exits stage left shaking his head. Back home and my new writing buddy rings with a gag that makes me smile and know we're on the same wavelength. Jess arrives home and we relax until I remember I forgot to buy any BEER. By the time I'm back home Laura and Corran are here and we have an evening to destroy. By midnight we've sorted out the American problem and Iraq, pitched various ideas at one another to see what sticks and generally had a blast. There follows a brief history of Black Flag some kick-arse music and killer conversation and before we know it we're talking 1am and night buses. And then we woke up. Today has been slow and easy... dodging drug addicts (YOU FUCKING CUNT! DIDN'T I SAY I'D DO IT? YOU FUCKING WANT ME TO HIT YOU?) and messing around in grave yards. I love this city. The second episode of 30 Days was not quite as fucked up as the first one, but if you need people to tell you that 2 injections and 42 tablets per day may not be the best way to lose that stomach then you deserve dead sperm and liver failure. And hey, next time don't take advice from a 'doctor' with a plastic head. Now it's time to beat back the email with a big piece of wood... Mike is writing to The Youngbloods