Email from Tim Chipping. The ICA Artist Tino Sehgal has read my diary entry about him, presumably searching the web for mentions of himself. It was only a matter of time before Mr S realised his life is just a part of the Work Of Art that is this diary. It’s the ultimate Pro-Choice argument. You’re not a proper human being until you’re in Dickon Edwards’s diary.

Sadly, Mr S gets paid for his Art. While I do not get paid for this thing. Yet.

Surely it must just be a matter of time. I’ve kept this web diary for eight years now. That must count as some kind of ‘experience’. I suppose I just have to Hustle. It worked for Ms Belle De Jour.

Successful Art is ten per cent inspiration, ninety per cent prostitution.

Speaking of which. Piece in The Guardian the other day about bands of the past who were touted as Next Big Things, then failed to deliver. Orlando are included.

I knew about this beforehand. One of the writers (the piece took two people to write, never a good sign), contacted me. I told him that if Orlando had gotten some publicity in The Guardian in 1995, rather than in a piece in 2005 about publicity-hyped bands that failed, maybe we wouldn’t have failed. Not what he wanted me to say in the piece, of course.

But it’s the un-simple truth. Orlando were only hyped in the Melody Maker, nowhere else. That was the whole problem. We’d have loved a few crumbs from the Guardian table back then, when it mattered. So our first ever appearance in the newspaper is instead ten years later, in a piece about apparently having too much press. I thought The Guardian was meant to know all about the nature of irony.

Of course, the real reason for our inclusion is that they couldn’t get Terris, Tiger or Gay Dad. And to be fair, Melody Maker readers of 1995 have, like the writers, probably moved to The Guardian now.

I hesitated to help the journalist, wanting like anyone else to Be In The Guardian, but only on My Own Terms. It goes against my whole philosophy to be part of any crowd. That was another problem with Orlando, too. Roped in with Romo in 1995. Roped in with Adorable in 2005. Journalists – or rather, their editors – always want there to be A Pitch, A Reason, An Angle. A way to box things together, compare, organise, present, explain. Because if something can be explained, it can be explained away.

But I realised it wasn’t me the journalist was after, just Someone From The Band Orlando Who Acts Vaguely Human. So I gave him Mr Chipping’s number.

The piece came out with no mention of my name, and Mr C’s quotes, he tells me, pay scant relation to what he actually said. Shame. Still, it could have been worse. And it was a nice photo of Mr C.

And good to see coverage of the divine Ms Virginia Astley, too. I’m reminded that in 2003 Rough Trade re-issued her wonderful album, From Gardens Where We Feel Secure. This is as good a time as any to recommend it. Available to buy here. You’ll absolutely adore it. I suppose it would now be called ‘Ambient’ music.

I don’t mind Orlando being roped in with her at all. She’s another original that wanted to give the world something they weren’t getting from others. Unlike Adorable and Five Thirty, who were just Bandy Band Bands, and don’t deserve to lick the impeccable, well-chosen boots of Ms Astley and ourselves. There’s always another Five Thirty just around the corner. That’s the whole problem.

Ah well. More people read this diary than read The Guardian.

(Told you I was good at attracting attention)

No, I withdraw that claim. But the diary does seem to have a talisman-like effect on all kinds of people, good and bad. I wonder. If I type the the words LOVE, WEALTH, and SUCCESS here, and publish them online, will they too eventually look me up?

I’ll settle for ABILITY TO GET MANY THINGS DONE QUICKLY. Find me. Find me, please.