* 200 articles. Two years. Whelk. The best of Upsideclown. Might be reprinted.

...just sitting there quietly contemplating suicide

21 April 2003
Victor's been to a conference.

You will be bitterly lonely in unfamiliar magnolia surroundings with Parker Knoll furniture. You will have packed too much reading material in order to keep yourself occupied for four days. You find it hard to believe that your book will remain untouched, still packed in your case.

You will be forced to talk to a room full of strangers, none of whom will be fit, all of whom will be bored loners like you (check out the academic conference, where the delegates do not normally have to talk to another living soul in their daily lives). Since when do all your friends ever get to go to the same conference and sit around catching up for hours? Are you really still harbouring the expectation that you will meet new people, people whom you would like to see again? Even outside work?

The people you do know will still be the same boring people. Hardly worth hoping that you will get to know them better, see a refreshingly different side to a character, etc.

You will prefer to sit, eat and drink alone in order to avoid having to make small talk. There's no chance that you will tire yourself out with talking, have more people than places at your dinner table, and get chucked out of the bar well after closing time.

You will go to bed earlier than usual, perhaps with a night-cap and porn, because there is so little to do. You're hardly likely to stagger into the next morning's papers after too little sleep because you were having so much fun.

You will most definitely toe the line. After all, how likely is it that you will act the tourist, only attending the sessions you feel like attending, skiving off to go on the piss, turning the air blue with your expletives?

You will be glad to get away. You will not - NOT - be looking forward to next year's.

And the likelihood that you will meet a tall, dark, strange stranger who makes you feel good about yourself, flirts unashamedly, offers genuine, uncomplicated admiration, establishes an immediate and challenging connection with you and doesn't just want a quick shag - it's not even worth measuring. You dreaming?

Sometimes, just sometimes, things don't turn out as you expect.

Until then, meanwhile, you're... [see title]


This is the fucking archive

Current clown:

18 December 2003. George writes: This List

Most recent ten:

15 December 2003. Jamie writes: Seven Songs
11 December 2003. Dan writes: Spinning Jenny
8 December 2003. Victor writes: Rock Opera
4 December 2003. Matt writes: The Mirrored Spheres of Patagonia
1 December 2003. George writes: Charm
27 November 2003. James writes: On Boxing
24 November 2003. Jamie writes: El Matador del Amor; Or, the Man who Killed Love
20 November 2003. Dan writes: Rights Management
17 November 2003. Victor writes: Walking on Yellow
13 November 2003. Matt writes: Disintermediation
(And alas we lost Neil, who last wrote Cockfosters)

Also by this clown:

8 December 2003. Victor writes: Rock Opera
17 November 2003. Victor writes: Walking on Yellow
27 October 2003. Victor writes: Our Tune
6 October 2003. Victor writes: Sucking face (in a public place)
15 September 2003. Victor writes: You got any ID?
25 August 2003. Victor writes: Blood on the Boulevard
4 August 2003. Victor writes: In (paren)theses
10 July 2003. Victor writes: Island Fling
19 June 2003. Victor writes: Back (back) and forth (and forth)
2 June 2003. Victor writes: 300 clowns, 13 eight-year olds
12 May 2003. Victor writes: The swings and roundabouts of outrageous fortune
21 April 2003. Victor writes: ...just sitting there quietly contemplating suicide
31 March 2003. Victor writes: Victoria
6 March 2003. Victor writes: Relevant experience
17 February 2003. Victor writes: You will eat chips and go nowhere
27 January 2003. Victor writes: A bushy fish for fishy Mr Bush (after Juvenal)
6 January 2003. Victor writes: The Accidental Voyeur
16 December 2002. Victor writes: Gripper goes bang
25 November 2002. Victor writes: Bediquette
4 November 2002. Victor writes: Where have all the spastics gone?
14 October 2002. Victor writes: An Immodest Proposal
23 September 2002. Victor writes: Fastscan masterplan
2 September 2002. Victor writes: Dry Humping Social Club
12 August 2002. Victor writes: Beat the Mongol
22 July 2002. Victor writes: What life is not
1 July 2002. Victor writes: Stupor heroes
6 June 2002. Victor writes: Dry
13 May 2002. Victor writes: Muppet Suite
18 April 2002. Victor writes: gingermingeninja
25 March 2002. Victor writes: Sodomize with Pukka Pies
28 February 2002. Victor writes: Dave's problem
4 February 2002. Victor writes: King of the Aisles
10 January 2002. Victor writes: Here come the decorator gimps.
17 December 2001. Victor writes: Make war, not supper.
22 November 2001. Victor writes: Cough
29 October 2001. Victor writes:
4 October 2001. Victor writes: Green Gauges
10 September 2001. Victor writes: Blind weed
16 August 2001. Victor writes: Snout!
23 July 2001. Victor writes: You're not going to put this in a clown are you?
28 June 2001. Victor writes: What is a droll?
4 June 2001. Victor writes: Burt Pakamak
10 May 2001. Victor writes: Board to Death
12 April 2001. Victor writes: Tricolon with anaphora?
22 March 2001. Victor writes: Point of View
26 February 2001. Victor writes: Goth's Dinner
1 Feburary 2001. Victor writes: Les Miserables
4 January 2001. Victor writes: Flat-packed furniture
14 December 2000. Victor writes: Deliverance
20 November 2000. Victor writes: Bottomry: Exorcising Ghosts
26 October 2000. Victor writes: Body Art
2 October 2000. Victor writes: Disney must die
7 September 2000. Victor writes: Ice-cream in Offworld
14 August 2000. Victor writes: I like sweets that taste of medicine
26 June 2000. Victor writes: I've seen the future, and it's feathered

Let meeeeeee entertain you

We are all Upsideclown: Dan, George, James, Jamie, Matt, Neil, Victor.

Material is (c) respective authors. For everything else, there's

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