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Ironically a large part of this blog was written by
hand. Right now, Iím typing this into Word, but
Iím not connected to my wireless. Iím making a
point of mentioning this now, as it has relevance
to the rest of my piece.

(Oh yes there must be a million blogs like this

Iím not going to define what a myspace addict is, you
all know. Iím an all or nothing kind of person,
so I recognise an addiction real fast by now. We
all have different levels of tolerance for all
kinds of things, so let me just state that Iím
only describing my own experience, not judging
anyone elseís.

Anyhow; I never got really bad. Like those people
you see, whose little orange thingy is flickering
every time you log on. Only cos Iíve already been
there, but elsewhere.

I discovered a chat room in 2000 or 2001. I
worked a lot online back then and my curiosity got
the worst of me. Back then, it was a Lycos chat
called Free For All, and thatís what it was. It
was pure & simple; there was a java script, no
moderator, no censors or filters, no fancy flash
and no changing font colour unless you knew html.
So we learned html. We learned to use scripts to
boot each other off the script and send each other
dodgy shit. Very geeky and very hardcore.

It was a laugh and I spent most waking hours
chatting to this bunch of crazy people who became
friends, one of them even my man for a while (in
real life; Iím not that nuts). Looking back, it
sounds so fucking insane. I was sure it was real
in its own way, I knew half of these folks
probably werenít who they said they were, but
without doubt some were, and I was enjoying
myself. But I neglected a lot of real stuff.


Thursday I decided that Friday would be an offline
day. No problem. I came home from work, made
sure I didnít spend too much time in near
proximity of my pc. I cooked, hung out with mates
and did a few drawings. I even had a good nightís
sleep for once. It wasnít difficult, it was quite

Next morning was a little weird. I thought of people
writing me, expecting an answer etc (stupid
stuff). I wanted to record the experience cos it
wasnít anything like what Iíd expected but I
didnít want to switch my pc on to write in Word;
the temptation to log on would be too great, so I
wrote by hand; a pad and a pen. Havenít done that
a while, itsí fucking awful I canít read a thing
Iíve written. Feel a bit silly.

But then logging onto myspace started to feel like
burden, like making a difficult phone callÖ It
felt like Iíd rather never log on again, that a
life without myspace was an easier and happier

(Had a hysterical giggle when I realised how I
always bleat on about being REAL, considering how
Iíve recently tended to prefer invisible friends.)

Not until Saturday did I cycle home in my lunch
break, just to check those damn messages. Then I
came home from work and now I feel like Iíd rather
not go online again. Iím not sure why Iíve gotten
a taste for offline living but damn itís goodÖ
Talking face to face with mates; doing some
creative writing, eating at the dining table
instead of the desk; going for a walk; printing
some beeís, looking through piles of old artwork,
watching Murder She Wrote and cleaning the
kitchenÖ Life is good.

And maybe so intense myspacing isnít for me.

But I do love how I run into art and music and people
I never knew existed and other ones I knew existed
but not where... And then thereís the blogging
that Iíve come to love. And looking at other
grafferís pieces and finding out how many female
writers are out there (BIG UP all b-girls; weíre
big and weíre clever yo) - And stupid comments
and hilarious pictures and silly skills and the
stuff that makes me laugh out loud, surely thatís
better than watching mindless telly? Fuck, I
donít know. Everything in the right amounts;
perfect balances maybe.

I still want to blog and network and discover, but Iím
going to reclaim my life, which I love. Iím
rationing my myspacing and Iíll throw myself into
real life again.

Ok Iím out, got to run spell check which takes hours
and then Iíll post this mutha. Got another blog
to write.

Shout out to all those directly and indirectly
involved in giving me this short, sharp kick up
the creative combustulatorÖ

Perhaps Allen Carr has written a book on how to quit
Myspace alreadyÖ

i © B 2006