Relax, it’s okay. My domain name is safe for another year.

Apparently it was getting a little close to the date when it would all be handed over to the rest of the world for anyone to swipe, so the major nations of the world started sending their diplomats to talk to me about it. They’ve even been shutting down Sydney. I’m a little embarrassed. All this hoo-har just over my own little forgetful brain. I hope I didn’t cause anyone any inconvenience.

It’s okay now, though, you can all go home.

The middle weekend of the show is always rough when you’re performing four shows, and this was no different. Particularly because I headed out after the Sunday matinee and didn’t get home till 1am, and am still sporting the sore throat routine.

Then tonight I did a bad thing. At around 8pm I was feeling particularly dodgy so I ended up crashing on my bed. About twenty minutes later I decided that I was going to call it a day and got under the doona. Soon after I was in that blissful land of sleep. I later started to wake up and eventually decided to check what time it was. I was hoping something like 6 or 7am. It was only 11.30pm. I’m afraid my body thought it was only a nap. When I woke I felt quite refreshed and alert.

It felt like the middle of the night (and I guess it was), but it was still a few hours before my usual bedtime so the usual clan was on MSN and still Doing Things™. I was able to get an advert done for tomorrow, so my intermission (as Adam called it) was at least productive.

Now back to the second half of the show.

Don’t let anyone tell you playing the piano can’t be violent.

At the end of each show of almost two full hours of piano playing, every single vein in my hand has popped out as far as it can go. Even strange veins that stretch between my index finger and my thumb. After a while they recede, but until then it’s like I’m mid-transformation into The Hulk.

My hands are aching and I have some glissando induced injuries. For those not in the know, a glissando is when you run your finger up or down the keyboard hitting either all the white or all the black notes. One early gliss today was rather brutal and it felt like I caught a chunk of skin on the side of a particularly rough key, which is odd because that part of my finger is calloused up from umpteen prior “glissters”. I also have a patch of blood that is emerging near my index fingernail due to my upward gliss action. It’s quite sore so I only played downward glissandi tonight.

Apart from bruised and bloodied hands, I’ve developed a sore throat, but that’s hardly a surprise given the weather and my current patterns. One more show tomorrow, then my real weekend starts (my weekend is now Monday/Tuesday given that I work or “work” every other day).

First my web site was banned from government school computers. Then it was blacklisted from the Sydney Bus Network systems. Now I’ve received confirmation that it is now Net-Nanny-ed on the TAFE computers. Can anyone offer any more?

The up shot of this is that I can write whatever I like about Greg and since his new home net connection is being “looked into” by Telstra, and he can’t access my site at his workplace. What this means is that I can tell stories such as how on Thursday night Greg took to the streets and had the shutters of almost every computer shop slam in his face searching for an elusive IDE cable. When he finally tracked one down, he opened his drawers to find three IDE cables sitting right on top.

It’s a good thing he can’t read this.

The festering, perverse scum of Australian Television known as Today Tonight really hates MySpace. Every second night they run a story about how someone’s life has been destroyed by MySpace throwing in expositional lines for the grannies such as “So, using a website on the internet (thats on the computer) called MYSPACE, you are able to be taken advantage of and have photos taken of your naked body?”, cut to a footage of a 12-year old girl actually responding to the question “Would you like free tickets to see Pink?” Even though everyone knows the show is more fictional and distorted than Home and Away, their fervent fixation on representing MySpace as the work of no less than Satan’s No. 2 used to baffle me. Until tonight.

Over the past few days I had tried a few times to log into my account but whenever I entered my password it spat me out onto a nasty Microsoft database error page. Obviously someone forgot to put a slash here or a semicolon there and rendered at the very least my account out of order. At first I sniggered and mumbled something like “that’s what you get hosting your website on 47,000 unwanted Zune players”, but then it kept happening day after day.

Tonight I decided to try again. Low and behold it let me in. I scrolled down just enough to see if I had any new comments or messages. Yes! it said. One New Message! One New Friend Request! One New Birthday! One New Event Invite! Wow! It seemed that while my account was out of action the MySpace world was scuttling around like mice in a tank just prior to being injected with cancer. It seems my account was alive and receiving plenty of attention that I couldn’t supply.

Quickly, I Apple-clicked (to open in a new tab, write it down) on each of the links to bring me my new parcels of digital social joy. I was flittery like a braced-up schoolgirl who just heard whispers that Corey wanted to kiss her. Opening each tab, my joy was systematically crushed. The kids in the playground were playing a prank on me. I had no new messages. No new friend requests. No new birthdays. No new event invites. It seems my account really had been dormant. MySpace was just taunting me with false hopes of popularity.

Now I’m at a loss. I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know if I can ever find happiness again. I don’t know how to spell luv, let alone give or receive it. How can I ever make friends again when I know that their friendship might be as short as my friend request list. Quick, someone, give me the number for Today Tonight.