ever since my dad installed speedy at home i’ve been addicted to
the internet digression.
it’s not like i wasn’t addicted before. at the office i spend all my time online, too.
but having broadband at home—now my addiction is like, say, it’s like i was smoking pot all day and now i’m snorting coke off bunga citra lestari’s sagging arse every five minutes.
who would not be addicted to digression?
like, say i was reading lorrie moore’s introduction to the special issue of ploughshare she was editing, then i thought about her novel, “who will run the frog hospital?,” and its french title, “que vont devenir les grenouilles?,” which was half about paris (“one big stairmaster”), and then i thought about anatomica, this shoes store at le marais, where i saw this pair of shoes that i ended up not buying because i hate shops that sell birkenstocks, too, and then i felt bad because maybe i should’ve just bought them and not stuck so rigidly to all these laws i’ve imposed on myself, like “never buy anything from shops that sell birkenstocks,” laws that i create because i am so afraid of being “not cool,” cool to whom?, and then i started googling “anatomica + paris” and next thing i know i had been reading the cydwoq—the brand of the shoes—for 30 minutes.
stephen dixon’s i. started with a story featuring a chinese restaurant (good) in paris.
if you put quotes ” ” on your google search terms, you are limiting your reach for useless knowledge.
but i digress.
BCL is too flat-nosed to wear oversized sunnies.