I have survived, for the moment, the great volcanic crisis. But I'm sort of expecting it to erupt again, and don't feel entirely safe yet. It's another thing to worry about. I know one day I'll be digging myself out with a shovel.
I suppose the massive destruction and loss of human life would all be worth it if I were to find that it was up to me to re-populate the planet with Scarlett Johansson, the only other survivor. Though I suppose the chances of that happening are quite remote, really.
Ho hum. After Lost in Translation, I am always going to be a little disappointed in life. I know I'm never going to meet Scarlett Johansson in a hotel in Tokyo. She will never rest her head on my shoulder while wearing that really great pink wig. In this rather dingy area of South London, I'm just not going to bump into her. So that will always be a lingering regret.
Back in the real world, I've been trying to format some writing in .epub, a modern ebook format. Having downloaded the necessary software, I've found it not to be as easy to use as I hoped. These things never are. I've surprised myself over the past decade by learning stuff like HTML and CSS and Photoshop and desktop publishing and whatever else I need to get by these days, but I often find it something of a struggle.
There is one football fan forum I visit, where, in the off-topic section, fans sometimes ask for help with computer problems. Unfortunately, the answers from other football fans inevitably include the suggestion 'Try wiping your cock across the screen.' Which, I must admit, did make me laugh the first time I read it. But I don't think this will ever really be that helpful.