August 3, 2009 10:23 p.m.

We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by for my last fifteen minutes.

My possessions are causing me suspicion. What began as a friendly correspondence was undermined by my laptop's self-destructive bent. My computer is on suicide watch as I attempt keep sharp objects out of its grasp. I am writing this in "Safe Mode", which is like trying to play a sonata on Thorazine. I should have simply written a letter. The e-mail, apparently unsendable with my current technology, follows. Res ipsa loquitor.

Mike:

I wrote a reply earlier, by my laptop shut down like Bobby Bonilla with a minor injury in a noncontract year. So that was awesome.

Then I wrote another entire reply. And my machine crashed again before I could hit "Send". I reboot, and I am informed that Windows experienced an unexpected shutdown. Oh, do you think so doctor? And it shuts down again. Keep typing. Another blackout. Dear Everyone: The weather is great. Wish you were here. Love, Sisyphus.

Anyway. [generic "work is good" stuff].

The kid stuff is pretty much locked down. I know this because [playful comment about my lovely wife]. As reward for my diligence, I have literally weeks of guiltless Golden Tee. It's a sin to live so well.

Fruit for breakfast. Soup for lunch. A sensible dinner. You watched me smoke the last cig I had over a month ago. Not much point in drinkng, what with the joy of my existence bleeding out on the floor. Like a watercolor in the rain, as Al Stewart would say.

So, yeah, it's the best job in the world. That's what I tell you guys.

When my computer loses consciousness, by the way, the screen goes blue and white typeface explains that the computer is "dumping physical memory". Dumping Physical Memory. That sounds serious. It also sounds like a shitty liberal arts college band.

And now I'm done. So much time into it, I might as well post it on my page.

Fuck it, we'll do it live.

Jack

I am delivered.