I'm writing this from the computer room at the Institute of Archaeology, the misguided fools who run this place having seen fit to leave my account open. I have once again been indulging in the consumerist merry-go-round by buying books, namely Keith Roberts' Pavane and Dani Cavallaro's Cyberpunk and Cyberculture. I got the latter because the more I talk to people about cyberpunk, the more I realise that I don't really understand what it is. Now it's perfectly possible to like something without understanding it, but, me being me, that would never do. Plus I got it for £3 at Judd Books. God I love that shop.
There are posters on the tube advertising a show called Cyberjam. Every time I see one I have a strong urge to ring up the person who wrote it and say "So, what's so 'cyber' about this 'jam' that you speak of, then?". So far I have been able to resist the urge, but it's only a matter of time...
On Wednesday night, I will attempt to entertain people at Gamesoc with a short campaign that I've written. I do worry that it may all go terribly wrong. For example, last week one member (who shall remain nameless) made, quite innocently, the statement that he was going to "fist his way" through a crowd of people. Should this happen again, I may die laughing. Even worse, they'll have to hide my corpse for insurance purposes. An elaborate farce a la Weekend at Bernie's beckons.
So far, my request for a PhD supervisor has had two replies. Chris Mee at Liverpool not only claims to remember me (ah, the advantages of being the only student archaeologist to dress like Ernest Hemmingway), but is also quite interested in the proposal. Paul Halstat at Sheffield has forwarded my e-mail to John Bennett. The fact that a real archaeologist likes my idea has cheered me up no end.
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