7th August 2001 - 9:32 p.m.

I shouldn't write the diary anymore. I realise this. It's a dangerous form when it falls into the wrong hands.

I should try to relate anecdotes of street-life and banality, and end with the flourish of a punchline. But. Sometimes, you know, life just stops being funny. It suddenly presents itself as a thing of terrible gravity. I half-remember a line from Friedan: "'Isn't it funny?' they seemed to say. 'We're trapped!'". Things are not merely absurd, to be met with a raised eyebrow and a wry smile. Sometimes, nervous laughter is the most inappropriate of responses.

In lieu of regular programming, I offer my current hold-music.

Broken Dreams Orchestra - Clouds
Divine Comedy - Through A Long And Sleepless Night
Pink - Stop Falling
Bright Eyes - An Attempt To Tip The Scales
Spearmint - The Man Who Fell Asleep In The Sun
Townes Van Zandt - Tecumseh Valley
Luke Haines - The Oliver Twist Manifesto
Petula Clark - Ballad Of A Sad Young Man
Jacques - Somewhere