Back From 1992

The hard drive made a grinding noise and beeped repeatedly. The machine had been acting up since May of 2006 when it crashed for the first time. I managed to boot it up a few days after and it remained on. I even had to disable the screen saver because when it slept, it wouldn’t wake. ECD, or Electronic Crib Death, plagued my household. They were trying times.

Since the explosion of the computer and my advancing years and penchant for getting up earlier and earlier, my morning regiment has become very important to me. It is how the rest of the day falls into place. Roll out of bed and find a cigarette. Prepare a pot of coffee. Look out the window until the coffee is finished. Maybe pee. Pour the cup, add no sugar or cream, and sit in front of the computer to read news, reviews, look at pictures, update my Netflix queue, etc. When the morning consists of  booting and rebooting, needless to say , it dampens the rest of the day under a gray cloud of pure failure.

I bought the computer, a G4, from the CFO of my company. I don’t like him, trust him, or wish anything well upon him. I just heard that he had one for sale. I offered to pay more than half right away and the remainder in two weeks. I told him he could keep it until I gave him the rest of the money. Nope. Everything up front. Crippled Jew asshole. I got the money and picked it up from his shitty, huge apartment. It worked wonderfully until this last May, less than a year since I bought it, when it crumbled slowly back to the dirt from whence it came.

I have been sans-comp since then. I have discovered the wonders of vinyl collecting, collage-making, and smoking-and-staring. I was accepting my lot, coveting the laptops that people brought into my cafe, using  other’s when I was at their house, and using the crappy PC in my office on my lunch breaks.

Out of the blue Johnny tells me that he bought a MacBook. My coveting was getting a little too close now. At his place one night I picked up the magic tablet to check my email during a commercial break from the football game (Colts…oh, those goddamn classy titans of the gridiron) and could hardly concentrate on the screen from the hard on I birthed despite the amount of beer already imbibed.

That’s it…new goal! I will have one.

I am now on my couch, listening to a playlist I’ve constructed for my love, wified to somebody’s network, smiling from ear to dirty ear (you see, its hard to bathe when there so much fun to have on such a little machine).

How will I pay my bills when iTunes has that Lair of the Minotaur album that I’ve been looking for? How can I leave the house when I haven’t finished writing my song “Hydrants are Open (Summertime Bronx)”? The cupboards are becoming bare thanks to the addictiveness of Photo Booth.

I guess this is my explanation of not updating in a while. I am here, though, and I am break-dancing when not reading about Obamapalooza and watching videos of dog fights.

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