Oh fuck. It’s the end of days for WordPress.
WordPress have decided that being a platform on which you can conveniently write isn’t enough.
They’ve decided to try and transform the language with which we think about content. Oh God, really? What the fuck does that even mean?
It means a pile of gobshites in Silicone Valley have lemminged behind a “visionary” with a trust fund and mirrored shades who reckons that if we change the language around writing words then we can make so much more money, ya? Utter bollocks.
Now there’s no wordcount and “content” is divided into “blocks”. Basically it’s a monster of misguided ambition and we will all have to shift to it on the 1st June or so. I’ll likely use the opportunity to shift host onto a different site that isn’t quite so full of shit. Especially since all I really need is a running wordcount. But I suspect a wordcount is at odds with the new futureconcept of “content blocks”. This Butthead visionary has decided that words are more than just a number, ya. I would like to dissolve him.
It’s always the way. The seeds of destruction are sewn from within. The Roman Empire was destroyed by too much expansion in The Roman Empire. Ditto The British. Ditto The WordPress it seems. Arses. I’ve managed to set it back to the old editor for now.
Nic and I got bikes. I decided to experiment with one of the new “Jump” bikes with a built in rider assistant dynamo. They are littered around the pavement outside my home, dangerously close to the river. Going to Richmond from mine on one is not a good idea though. I realised too late that if I left it there I’d end up paying them £25 to recover it on top of rental. I told Tristan I’d meet him in Barnes and left it there instead but with a five quid “wrong place” fine it still worked out over £20 for a spin. Still, I bought my first Flat White since this started, on the Lower Richmond Road, and constant readers will know how much that means to me…
What a glorious day and at least I’m ticking the economy over, which I totally have to be after the government paid my self-employed assistance remarkably quickly after I overcame my blocks about filling in forms.
I’ve got to thinking how we can try to prop up the theatre industry through resourcefulness. We can’t open the theatres and there’s lots of very negative projections bandying about. So I’m starting to talk to makers and thinkers I know because these times call for creativity and thinking outside the box. The world is starved of Live content, but there are structures in place and technology available that a small group of creative people isolating together could lead to many different and interesting ways of getting live content to people who have been allowed into the creative process somehow. Making a show for the audience.
Ownership and live theatre. It’s something…
But right now, frankly, I’m tired and a little too drunk to make any sense of sentences. My short term memory is temporarily shot to hell. Tired through sun and exercise. Bed is calling loudly.
I’m listening to Erykah Badu and cooking sausage and beans. This evening I’m a basic bitch. So be it.