My name is Phil and I am an…

I was going to write pages today. Screens full of dense text. Rich with insight and laughs. New perspectives on the human condition that had thus far escaped the great minds of all the major civilisations. Penetrating commentary on the modern world that would have you shouting from your window, marching into the street with banners raised. One minute the tears would be flowing uncontrollably as you howled a primal scream certain to give neighbouring kids sweating nightmares until well beyond puberty. The next minute you’d be laughing so hard, rolling around incapable of any action save the occasional life-saving breath, that there is no Internet acronym that could begin to abbreviate the shattering experience.

But instead I read hundreds of posts in the The Well’s Big Brother topic. This should be enough to have me locked away in any moral and decent society, but I can’t help it. If I had a fat enough net connection I would, right now, be glued, Timecode like, to the four simultaneous webcams and you wouldn’t even be getting this attempt at confession. Yes, I am an addict, and I’m already dreading the withdrawal in two months time…