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Nov. 19th, 2000 01:37 pmIt is 34 degrees outside and it's raining a cold, bitter rain that spashes through one's skin and freezes the bone itself.
And yet, I'm sitting huddled at my keyboard feeling a strange sense of external rebirth. Everything on my body is less than two weeks old. I have a new watch (a Fossil Steel), a new cotton slate-midnight-blue shirt from Banana Republic, new bluejeans from The Gap (which in itself shows a departure from the last dozen years in that they're not black). I'm wearing black Jockey cotton underwear and black cotton Gold Toe socks that I bought yesterday as socks and underwear have been the limiting factor in my wardrobe lately. I put in new contacts today -- last night I removed the ones I had been wearing for three weeks and had nearly bonded molecularly to my cornea. The only thing of any age on my body are my two sterling hoops in my left ear (about a year old -- the hoops, not the piercings), and my white-gold wedding ring (five and a half years).
I'm cruising Napster, inspired by SansSouci's hangover (I get debilitating hangovers, too), searching for Squeeze's "When the Hangover Strikes", but the only version I find is full of pops and clicks that do more harm than good. I decide to save some uploads instead.
I need a faster link. I live in the Atlanta exurbs, more than 5 miles (as the phone lines fly) from BellSouth's Central Office. This means I live too far away for DSL to be worth a damn. My cable company won't let cable-modem subscribers use their own ISP, though I hear they're gonna be sued, so that might change. So, I'm a 21st century digital boy stuck at 56k.
And yet, I'm sitting huddled at my keyboard feeling a strange sense of external rebirth. Everything on my body is less than two weeks old. I have a new watch (a Fossil Steel), a new cotton slate-midnight-blue shirt from Banana Republic, new bluejeans from The Gap (which in itself shows a departure from the last dozen years in that they're not black). I'm wearing black Jockey cotton underwear and black cotton Gold Toe socks that I bought yesterday as socks and underwear have been the limiting factor in my wardrobe lately. I put in new contacts today -- last night I removed the ones I had been wearing for three weeks and had nearly bonded molecularly to my cornea. The only thing of any age on my body are my two sterling hoops in my left ear (about a year old -- the hoops, not the piercings), and my white-gold wedding ring (five and a half years).
I'm cruising Napster, inspired by SansSouci's hangover (I get debilitating hangovers, too), searching for Squeeze's "When the Hangover Strikes", but the only version I find is full of pops and clicks that do more harm than good. I decide to save some uploads instead.
I need a faster link. I live in the Atlanta exurbs, more than 5 miles (as the phone lines fly) from BellSouth's Central Office. This means I live too far away for DSL to be worth a damn. My cable company won't let cable-modem subscribers use their own ISP, though I hear they're gonna be sued, so that might change. So, I'm a 21st century digital boy stuck at 56k.
