I don't use my phone much. Certainly not for talking to people. I do everything in my power to avoid talking to people on the phone.
I message people a bit. Not enough to be all that quick at it. Not enough for it to cost me anything — my phone bill has been $16.50 every month for the last 12 months, except in December when Kelly's ute broke down and we wasted 20 minutes on hold to the RACV. Not enough to have given up my regard for punctuation or my disdain for abbrs.
What rankles me about my phone is that despite some 2Gb of storage, I'm only allowed 4Mb for my messages. It's infuriating, because those messages are part of my written history. They're the best thing on my phone, and Nokia has granted me no way of exporting them. Everytime I'm forced to do a cull, twenty or thirty koans vanish into the void. I hate to tell you this, but I tend to delete your messages rather than mine. Not your good ones though — I'm trying to keep those, although Nokia has other ideas.
I have 1099 messages in my Sent Items folder. For a random sample, I'm going to take the 30 middlemost messages (534-563) devoid of context and dump them here. It's navel-gazing, but this is a blog, right?
Hang on, it's going to take a few minutes to scroll to them. Typing one-handed. Bring on the 3G iPhone already. Dum-de-dum. Is Everybody Knows This is Nowhere Neil Young's best album? I sometimes think so. Oh look, 420. If you recognise one, let me know. Alright, here goes nothing. (Reverse-chronological, for the record.)
So obviously that was my francophilean phase. For a lot of them, my guess is as good as yours. Incidentally, I won that poker game. And bizarrely, the only two text messages I've ever previously transcribed on this blog were in that random sample. That was unlikely. In summary, Nokia sucks.
Joseph | 3 Apr 2008