Week 220: rocket
Wrote my first bit of TypeScript, they say it’s the way of the future. The type checker is a pedantic prick.
At last BlackBerry (2023) (dir. Matt Johnson) has reached North American streaming services, so us foreigners can watch a version that hasn’t been recorded on a potato smuggled into a cinema.
Alas, the film doesn’t show anyone getting terribly drunk on an aeroplane and chewing through some handcuffs, and turns out that incident only involved two lowly managers anyway (of course, the actual co-CEOs wouldn’t be seen dead on a scheduled flight).
It’s funny how in the early 2010s the BlackBerry was really popular among sixth formers in Norfolk. Yes really. (Sure grandma lets’s get you to bed.) Next I suppose we’ll see all the kids on TikTok all using Bloomberg terminals.
Btw I think the Apple computer-spectacles will be shit and Tim Apple has lost the plot. They should go back to making printers again.
To the Regent’s Park open air theatre for Tim Key’s Mulberry. An email from the venue promised
scenes which some may find upsetting involving racism and racial trauma, colourism, death by suicide and sexual abuse. The production contains a loud gunshot that is heard in the first ten minutes of the performance.
But these were spoilers for something else (a play) that’s on at the theatre at the moment. Key’s show was just Key, a door, a fridge full of Neck Oil, and a statue of a cat. A nice evening, but no gunshots fired.
Went to one of those panopticon Amazon Fresh shops they have now. Meal dealt – the southern fried chicken wrap was rubbish, but the Amazon Fresh branded paper bag (free!) will be good for putting recycling in. It took 20 minutes for the receipt to come through, which made me think a person had to check the footage of me shopping, maybe it’s not as automated as all that.
Outside there was a lady eating a fistfuls of rocket (Sainsbury’s wild) from a bag (60g) and some kind of pasty (hot food counter). Then I went to a nearby Wetherspoon for a poo and a pint and there she was again, somehow drunker and crazier than I’d ascertained from the rocket eating. Cool story eh.
Later, an anomalous flow of passengers, don’t know how to describe them other than the sort of people you’d see at a Beyoncé concert, yes I quickly remembered that she was in town. They looked fabulous – the Tim Key lot were were fine, but these were like a different species. Good time for the glitter industry.
CNPS: 31. Saw 27–30 on one bike ride, amazing, the sort of thing that makes people believe they’re living in a simulation etc. But I think it will be a while before I see a 32.