in which witness is borne: birds, politics, fiction and critical art theory

Dispatch from Ten Minutes From Now

Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Boy, do I feel refreshed! After a long day of sitting at the keyboard with occasional trips to the hallway to check for secret listeners, chat with the part time faculty, and go to the bathroom, I finally made it out here to the street, where giant flakes of snow are tantalizingly kissing my hair and skin. How good it feels to be out of fluorescent lighting! Why, just ten minutes ago I was hunched in my chair, cursing the slowness of the day and ritually pulling out single hairs from the top of my head.
1:50 PM :: ::
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