You can’t move at the moment for people hyping up Web 2.0 all over the interwebnet – this is the movement that basically says that the next generation of web technologies will all be in pastel colours, use “tags” a lot, be “collaborative” and “aggregative” and “clustered” and will involve “clouds” and “communities”, and for some reason, will all be written in Lisp and will have the letter “e” missing from their name. So far, it’s produced quite a lot of venture capital for very little result, flickr (a glorified, slow and difficult to use photo album) and “podcasting”, which is basically “putting MP3s online for people to download”. Revolutionary stuff, I’m sure you’ll agree.

You might detect that I’m not entirely convinced about this whole thing. Neither are the guys at Go Flock Yourself, a blog devoted to pointing out the retardedness of the whole Web 2.0 thang. It amused me for a few minutes, anyway.

I’ve never been able to waltz. To be fair, I’ve never been much cop at dancing of any variety (save for that time when I had about 2 hours of Ceroc tuition and quite enjoyed it but never went back) – I can just about manage the Awkward Indie Shuffle (hold your pint, stare at your feet and shuffle vaguely in time with the music) or the Pop-Punk Pogo (jump) but that’s about it. But out of all of the dances I’ve ever been forced to try, the waltz is the one that causes me most trouble – I just can’t get two feet to go into three beats: if God had meant us to Waltz, he’d have given us a third leg.

However. On Friday night, I had a dream. And in that dream, for reasons best known to my subconcious mind, it was absolutely imperative that I learned to waltz: my very existence depended on me succesfully waltzing. So off I went to a dreamland dance instructor (who was probably the recreation of some terrifying childhood authority figure or something) and they taught me to waltz. And they really did: by the end of the dream, I was moving elegantly across the dancefloor to irritatingly twee Mozart and humanity was saved.

Sadly, it seems that dreams to not bridge to reality quite so easily. On saturday morning I awoke and thought back on the dream and wondered to myself, “Can I remember how to waltz now, in my waking state?”. So, alone in the bathroom I struck up an orchestra in my mind – and waltzed straight into the bath, tripping over my two left feet and feeling quite foolish.

Ah well. Looks like it’s back to the Awkward Indie Shuffle, then.

So, I got whinged at by Ali and Sasha for not writing anything. They were nice enough to feed me and Jez and Naomi last night with very nice food, wine and unreasonable quantities of vodka and Sasha leant me her Kiev medium format so I really feel compelled to write something.

Unfortunately, I can’t think of a damned thing to write about.

It’s a vicious cycle: I can’t think of anything to write, so I don’t write, so I get out of practise and it gets even harder to think of things to write about. So, I guess this is where I make a pledge to write something every day, irrespective of whether I’ve actually got anything to say or not (of course, what inevitably happens with these pledges is that I turn round in a week and realise I still haven’t written anything, and sort of give up. But we’ll see, anyway).

Anyway, I’m playing bass with my band – I told you I was in a band, right? I’m in a band; we play sort of generic-ish indie, at least, when the drummer turns up and when the guitarist isn’t coming up with riffs that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Phil Collins album circa 1985 – at a wedding tomorrow, so maybe I’ll write about that. Or my total lack of inspiration when it comes to buying a present for the company secret santa (my best idea so far being a “DIY Bonsai Kit” – a plant pot, pair of scissors, acorn and a bag of dirt). Or perhaps something deeply interesting and unexpeted will happen to me and I can entertain you all with that.

Anyway. I’m utterly shattered on account of today’s wine, sangria and vodka-induced hangover (and I’m guessing being out until 2am probably didn’t help either) so I’m going to go to sleep now. Maybe inspiration will strike in the night.