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bleakness, desolation, plastic forks
I don't think I'm good for much right now. Someone in the paper this morning said "Eight million cases of attention deficit disorder."
Last night, at d.b.a., the chance to see Michael, who had a very close call and wrote about it well and movingly; and Christine, who was late to work that morning; and numerous other friends. Wished each other a happy, and boring, New Year. A couple of job possibilities out of that--freelance on one, and a friend at Addison-Wesley who wants my resume, and pointed out that if they hire me, she gets a bonus.
Irene, here at the office, is getting a relative to hand-carry my resume to the Oxford University Press, some complicated system of who owes whom what in her family, and she's giving me some of those family points. A good person.
Contemplating New Year's (a different calendar) in Swansea, with all those frequent flyer miles while they're worth something.
Here at the office mostly because I didn't think it would be good for me to sit at home, and wondering now if it's making any difference, except that I stopped and bought a flag in the Port Authority Bus Terminal and that the tea here isn't as good as it would be at home.
Phones being weird, the Web ditto.
But I'm still here.
We shall not be moved.
Last night, at d.b.a., the chance to see Michael, who had a very close call and wrote about it well and movingly; and Christine, who was late to work that morning; and numerous other friends. Wished each other a happy, and boring, New Year. A couple of job possibilities out of that--freelance on one, and a friend at Addison-Wesley who wants my resume, and pointed out that if they hire me, she gets a bonus.
Irene, here at the office, is getting a relative to hand-carry my resume to the Oxford University Press, some complicated system of who owes whom what in her family, and she's giving me some of those family points. A good person.
Contemplating New Year's (a different calendar) in Swansea, with all those frequent flyer miles while they're worth something.
Here at the office mostly because I didn't think it would be good for me to sit at home, and wondering now if it's making any difference, except that I stopped and bought a flag in the Port Authority Bus Terminal and that the tea here isn't as good as it would be at home.
Phones being weird, the Web ditto.
But I'm still here.
We shall not be moved.
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