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Wednesday 1st October 2003

My world is falling a part. My new computer has suddenly started acting very erratically. Yesterday it refused to boot up for ages, then just as I was seeking advice on the problem, chose to suddenly change its mind and work.
It's still a bit unreliable. I fear I may have a virus even though I've got anti-virus software. You could be contracting my virus just by looking at these words. I am passing on virtual germs leaking through every pore of my computer.
Today my personal email address (not the one I give out on the internet for the use of nerds, stalkers and people who want to sell me pills to make my cock bigger- who told them about that?) stopped working. It's a btconnect address - don't bother trying, you won't be able to guess it (and anyway it doesn't work). I've had some problems like this with them in the past. They seem to be claiming that my password is wrong. It isn't wrong. They are.
Email is my life-line to the outside world and to my social and work life. I haven't been able to access it now for nearly a day. What kind of wonderful party invites and work offers and declarations of love would be winging their way into my in box if only things were working properly.
The awful thing is that people assume that if they've sent an email that it has got through immediately. I doubt very much whether they are getting an email back saying their message hasn't been delivered. It's waiting for me somewhere in outer space, hoping to be retrieved.
Annoyingly it seems that I am occasionally able to send a message, but as yet have not been able to receive (which can't be because no-one has emailed me. No, it can't be that. Don't be silly).
Technology makes our lives so convenient and fast paced, and then has the audacity to go wrong and remind us of how things used to be. Why has it given us a glimpse of a heaven where communication is immediate and efficient only to whip the rug from off the top of our heads and make us look stupid.
Some emails I sent at the weekend (when things were working) took four days to arrive. I may as well have used the Postal service.
All of this is, of course, down to some spotty American child with no friends who has created some viral infection to cause havoc round the world.
In Shepherds Bush the kids just slash tyres and at least that has some honesty to it.

It looks like I may have to go back to actually talking to people to let them know what I want.
Dammit.

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