Equal amounts of despair and happiness. On one hand, BT came and installed ADSL and its working brilliantly, had a tremendous weekend of summer barbecues, and friends Steve and Jeff were both in London on layovers to and from holidays. On the other hand, 20 years and 22 million deaths into the AIDS crisis the news is dire what with infections in the gay community on the rise, Africa devastated for generations, and the U.N. struggling with the hypocrisy of some of the world's governments.

Will we ever understand the psychological shadow that hangs over us, and may hang over us for decades? Will some of us ever stop worrying when we have a cold, slight fever, or ache? Why are so many surprised that infections are on the rise when society is so blase about the disease? 22 million people is more than the population of New York State. Brazil has lowered deaths from the disease by 60%, yet they can barely afford to provide medication because of the greed of the pharmaceutical companies. Two generations of Africans have grown up in societies devastated by the pandemic. I'm afraid for the world.

Trying to get BT to come and install ADSL has been no fun whatsoever, and I've already spent an afternoon in my flat waiting for them to not show up. Had drinks last night at the Westbourne in Notting Hill. If the weather is even remotely good, the place gets backed. We stood out on the street with our bucket of wine. An ex colleague from Organic was in town and we got all caught up on gossip. Tonight, Charlie's having a jam session/bbq in Wandsworth and tomorrow night is Lance's birthday bbq. And I'm afraid that will be my entire social calendar for the summer.

It's done. I've moved into the new flat, gotten familiar with the quirks and problems, and broken my toe. Big weekend. Now I'm gimping for the 7 minute walk to the station but have reduced my work commute by 35 minutes, which is thrilling.

I can't quite believe that the US has executed someone. Granted, what McVeigh did was inexcusable and devastating to the families and the country. But I can't shake the sickening thought of a federal official injecting poison into McVeigh's leg then waiting for him to die. So much for democracy.

Robert left town this morning after a whirlwind three-day trip. I wouldn't want to deal with the after-effects of jetlag from such a short trip, but understand his desire to travel. It sounds like things are starting to go well for him. But after staying up until 2.30 to drink vodka, listen to records, and talk old days, I'm hungover, anxious about moving, and trying to get work done.

We had drinks last night at the perennial favourite St. Martin's Lane Hotel with Kirsten and Robert's friends Mark and Murray then dinner at Joe Allen's which was below par and very badly served, but it caters a theatre crowd and there were some very attractive men which made the waiting hours for dinner a bit more enjoyable.

I hate moving. My flat is a mess of half-packed boxes and rubbish bags full of crap and general pandemonium. I wish I was sorted, relaxing in my new flat.

Robert's in town, and true to form he left me waiting 7.5hours yesterday whilst he recovered from his hangover. I can't imagine flying to London for a three day holiday, but it's awfully nice to see him.

The Depression Era. Last night I went to this month's Out in Digital Media gathering, an event for out gays and lesbians in the digital media to network. Despite the fashionable surroundings of the 23 Romilly Street club bar it was a rather depressing event. Not for the usual reasons of feeling unattractive in a room full of petite designer wearing twinks, but because there was desperation in the air. The industry is crumbling and people are grasping at anyone who can keep them working. Met with several people who were either searching for work, or heading up empty departments. That said, vodka did seem to sooth the mood a little bit and I still had quite a bit of fun chatting up a South African named Jay. I hope we make it through this. I am suddenly very nervous.