Some things are going well.
My cell-phone makes me feel lonely, so I have begun to turn it off and leave it at home whenever possible. This has resulted in a bizarre phenomenon I can only describe as “phantom cell-phone,” in which upon feeling a strange vibration I immediately reach my hand for the cell-phone that isn’t actually in my pocket.
Who’s in charge here?
I’ve stopped instant messaging, too, and I’ve been trying to avoid the mass media whenever possible. I do know that Anna Nicole Smith died, and the fact that this is a headline is still troubling me.
And then there’s this strange sense of postmodern relief — nobody can contact me, but nobody can’t contact me, either.
Nobody can leave messages, however, and therein lies the rub.
Earlier tonight, I put a stuffed monkey in my oven and took a black & white photograph of it.