So I finally decide to join Vleisboek and find myself immediately distracted. I watch the screen for hours and no one wants to be my friend. Not even Marco Filby. But, still I find myself without hours to write my diary. I feel sad and lonely. And I am broke and cannot buy more skyrove credits, yet I wait for friends whom I do not know. A close friend explains that he is also broke and that he had to withdraw money from his Swiss bank account. Sad.

But after my first Facebook sex experience I pluck up the courage to endure Zander Blom’s new show: ‘The Travels of Sad’. I am scared to see art people. There is no one there. Only Linda Stupart, who is following Zander around with big eyes. No doubt she will be writing a flattering review for ArtHeat.net. It’s a bit like the time when Stupart was stalking him at the Joburg Art Fair and stole his catalogues. Zander looks a bit sad and a bit pale. The show is overwhelmingly boring with pretty bright colours; drum kits, and smashed guitars, and Linda Stupart.

I am over it. Dan Halter steals a crate of Vitamin water and we head for the Kimberley Hotel where I meet Autumn Winters for a drink. I feel sad for Zander Blom and phone up Julia Rosa Clark, as I don’t have Zander’s number. I want to invite him for post-exhibition drinks, as I was not sure that he has any friends. Clark informs me that the gallery has invited her for dinner to congratulate her on the previous show. She says that Zander was tagging along.

We head for a burger and an empty night at ‘The Waiting Room’. We wait. Nothing happens. Back at the Kimberley it is nice and dark and gloomy, but we are asked to leave almost immediately. I suggest a retreat to my hotel room for a nightcap, only to find that it had been flooded by the storm. Ignoring it, we grab the beer and move it to Matthew Blackman’s house. I make a fire, burn the place to ashes, watch Monty Python and crash on the couch. I dream of Asian children with hearing disorders.