Strange Days

I miss talking to many of you regularly throughout the day over email.

I miss this thing called the 'net, and the posting of my synaptic misfirings and the decadence of wading through tons of blogs on a daily basis.

I miss the instant gratification of reading a friend's blog and the resulting illusion that I'm engaged down to the minute in their lives.

But the real world? The one that's all face-to-face and last minute ice cream outings and random sarcastic boys at bars and moaning clients and surprising conversations about Chuck Palahniuk and frequent panic attacks about new spaces. And talking. On this thing called the phone. Or even more revolutionary: One on one. On Tremont patios. In neighbors' doorways. Over fat sandwiches in the middle of the day. And NOT ONE GODDAMN THOUGHT TO CHECKING EMAIL. OR POSTING. OR REFRESH REFRESH REFRESH.

All this delicious real world? Well, it's really fucking nice.






----------
And yes: I am aware of the irony of posting this on the 'net. But it's been a long time, my friends.

-------