2003-11-04 - 8:00 p.m.
Online at last, with the company's fancy laptop, on the agonizingly slow dial-up connection (turbo-netfolk, harken to my tale of long ago, in the mists of distant legend, when the internet was new: Once, many ages ago, long before you were born, we connected our computers to the primordial internet only through phone lines. It was a simpler time.) and able at last to spew my mutterings and musings on ye at last, and this time from distant Texas, where everything is bigger except my hotel shower.Seriously. I think the hotel designers believed no one would ever be passing through except short midget dwarves with no legs. The shower head is affixed to the wall at a height of around 5'10" or so, and, as is shower heads' wont, curves down from there. Those of you who know me in person understand. I'm 6'2" for heaven's sake, so imagine me with a headfull of shampoo doing some weird yoga deep-knee bend thing to rinse off. A comical image, but not nearly so much fun (I'm sure) as the sight of me wincing and dancing around like a shaman possessed by some demon god because I have two eyefulls of Pantene. I feel like some sort of strange Gulliver. The rest of the hotel is normal, but when I enter my shower I suddenly seem like John Cusack's character from Being John Malkovich (who, I now recall, was also named Craig) filing papers in a miniature office.
Apologies for the brief update, but I am very hungry, and I have wrestled with this laptop for some time trying to get the "modem" to connect via the "phone line" (sorry for all the techie talk), so it is now late. Latish. La Tish. Which, as everyone knows, is French for "Craig's going now to get some food and watch bad hotel cable."
More soon, though. Definitely.
