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Father of twins and novelist/filmmaker/musician
in New York on the
Upper Upper Upper Upper
Upper West Side.
People complain about musicals.
Nobody just stops in the street
I say you know the wrong people.
They say:
and breaks into song.
Hopefully I'm just an idiot
So Friday afternoon, I'm carrying my bike panniers into Starbucks, and one feels a little light. My laptop isn't in its suspended sleeve.
The day before, I left the power supply at the day job, so obviously my brain damage has spread, and this time I remembered the power supply and spaced on packing up the laptop.
It was a long, long weekend.
This morning, the laptop's not in the office. One of three things has happpened:
I feel a strange sense of calm.
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The day before, I left the power supply at the day job, so obviously my brain damage has spread, and this time I remembered the power supply and spaced on packing up the laptop.
It was a long, long weekend.
This morning, the laptop's not in the office. One of three things has happpened:
- It's been stolen.
- Somebody noticed it in my office and put it somewhere safe.
- It's under the bed at home, where I put it in the evenings when I'm too lazy to get out of bed and slip it in its sleeve in the pannier, and I'm wrong when I remember having it at the office on Friday.
I feel a strange sense of calm.
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