(diaryland) January 31, 2007 - 8:06 p.m.

I spent over an hour on the phone just then. The reason I did was because I disabled the internet. It turned out, when I finally got through to tech support, that all I had to do was enable the internet again. I figured that might be what I needed to do.

Before putting me on hold, a lady robot asked me to say, "Yes." I did. It didn't recognise my "Yes." I tried again. "Yes." It started giving me lip. "I'm sorry. Do you need help? If you do, please say, 'Help.'"

I said, "Yes."

I did many things while waiting on the phone. I worked out how to play the Futurama theme tune on the keyboard with rhythm and back-up and all kinds of shit. I even got the bit at the end happening. It sounds awesome. I also memorised half a page of some wack Prokofieff tune that's all augmented octaves. It's edgy, in a kind of 1908 way.

I also began to try and find ways to stick the phone to my head, but it was getting towards that time where you know the tech support guy will finally answer just as you rip off a metre-long piece of masking tape with which to wrap around your head several times, thus creating a human/phone type meld, like Robocop if he was a telemarketer instead of in law enforcement. I tried to find my traditional Maori headband instead, to give a more cultural and less adhesive phone attachment flavour, but it was nowhere to be seen.

It's times like those when a headset could be quite useful.

Roland just said, "I think every time I look at a red piece of paper, the game saves."