The cab was black. One of those Lincoln Continentals that nobody owns, but are purchased by governments to drive dignitaries around. If I had been a more important person, the car might have been decked out with little flags from my home country on the front bumpers to signify that I was special. Someone who, when people passed on the street might exclaim “Who’s that?” Their friend answering “if you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.”

I packed my business gear into my green duffle-bag, that looked as inappropriate to it’s contents, as I felt going on the trip. The trip was business, and I felt like an impostor. A fake business man, who might look the part, but secretly wanted to bring down the organization of which I had just joined. It felt wrong, as if I had sold myself out to the suits I said I would always rebel against.

When I used to smoke, not that long ago, I used to day dream about all the cool things I would do with the new found money I would have if I quit smoking. The logic went a little something like-a-this:

* 1 pack of cigs = $7.00
* 5 packs a week = $35.00
* 20 packs a month = $140.00
* savings for the year = $1,000,000

So, my question to the panel is, where’s the flipping money? I ain’t no richer. Maybe it’s my math.

It has become apparent that writing from work, just isn’t feasible anymore, so I’m buying a laptop to write from home and on the road.

I’m currently in love with the “12-inch Powerbook.”:http://www.apple.com/powerbook/index12.html It’s like a tiny, tiny little slice of heaven.

It’s just going to be the adjustment of a 23-inch monitor to a 12-inch which might prove interesting.

I was…

I had been…

I tried to…

Ahh, forget it. The story is that I was lumbered with work over here. pounds of the stuff. stacks of paper, reams of CDs, and deadlines up the (pardon my language) wazoo. It was rough folks. Worst of all I had a trip out to California, that I was planning for and… I left.

I was so busy that I never even had time to say bye.

I’m sorry friends, for I should have said something. I should have given you notice, I should have sent a card, left a note, stuck a post-it(TM), but alas I didn’t. I just packed up my drawings and went from meeting to meeting in rainy california and lived with my bad karma.

What I’m trying to say is…

I’m back.

_sorry._