Once again I fell foul of machines thinking they can correctly dictate our life choices. I took a Lime bike into town to see Dr Strangelove. Halfway there the power was remotely disabled because the app thought that the roads were already closed. Then I was having to slog a heavy single gear hunk of junk up to St Martin’s Lane. When I got there I was told I wasn’t allowed to park in the cycle hire parking bay next to loads of other Lime bikes. I had to take it up north of TCR station where there was a huge sea of Limes, spilling out into the road. I had to take a photo proving safe parking, and finding my bike would have been like Where’s Wally, but the app said “that looks great” so I ran back to the theatre and got there shortly after the show went up. Didn’t miss much despite the fuckery, but I’m gonna keep flagging it now as it’s really starting to bother me the extent to which idiot machines are remotely arbitrating our choices. Lime bikes are a revolutionary bit of tech, but like with music and game downloads you don’t own them and they can – and will – remotely fuck with you because they can. It’s like that idiot on your timeline who thinks the world is flat keeps saying. “They” don’t want us to own anything anymore. This is true, but blame late stage capitalism not lizard people, and short of revolution which will only end up with idiots in charge again, the only real option is to put up and join in, or get sucked under. I’ll tell stories about things. This blog is hosted by WordPress and I pay yearly. If I stop I think it’ll immediately vanish. They won’t keep the posts up. All these words, all this noise, a little death after my death when the servers in silicon valley get a few more megabytes.
Meanwhile another new year as we continue to trade freedom for convenience. I’m watching live theatre. About fifteen men, no women. A crowded house though, even for a matinee. It’s a hot ticket as there’s someone off of the telly box in the cast. I’m enjoying it – writing in the interval. Not looking forward to being disgorged onto the NYE streets of London.
Lou calls this evening “amateur night” and she’s right. I prefer to work it or stay home, as all the things to do are marked up crazily, drinks cost loads, everyone is getting hammered for no reason. If you’re working at least you don’t start the year with a terrible head. This year though I’m just gonna go home and see how early I can turn in. Wake up in a new year.
Second half is starting.
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Lovely show. Sausage party. Very well done. Dr Strangelove. I’m biased. Got a dear old friend being the crazy general, doing it with aplomb. It resonates, this story about men making stupid decisions for stupid reasons and fucking everything up for everyone as a result.
And the rivalry between electric bike firms in my life is hotting up. Lime is trying to control use, which has caused a veritable sea of bikes behind the Dominion Theatre, and made me late for the show. I picked up a Forest on impulse at Leicester Square, where Limes are currently disabled. It flew me to Sloane Square in moments and I’ve parked it outside the station. Only Forest bikes here, and my loyalty is shifting back to the underdog.
I wish I hadn’t been in such a hurry, I would have taken a photo of that bike sea that Lime have created by bottlenecking everyone coming into central London. I’m waiting now for Lou at Sloane Square. We are going to have a chilled NYE at home. This is a better plan for Amateur Night than any other but for working a bar somewhere at quadruple pay. No fireworks, sure. But I won’t be part of a human polenta.
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Bedtime. Happy New Year all.
AlBarclay 