Note to self: do not buy any more Crumpler bags and, despite the snazzy design and price, take the bulky bag in your possession and burn it.
Photographers live out of bags, photogs on the run more so. A bag that is not helpful and well-designed (in essence my pal), deserves punishment.
Speaking of efficiency, I am currently in a shithole of an ersatz cafe in the Middling City suburbs solely because they offer free wi-fi. Wi-fi is a hot commodity in the MC and this fact has bottlenecked situations and thoughts of Blackberries have danced over my head.
I am embarking now to meet with a company about doing technical writing.
Yours Truly is a primo writer but what in hell is technical writing.
Isn't all writing technical.
The way the brain has to connect with its driving adrenaline and engage the muscles of the arms and especially hands while lapping at the pond of Wit. That is technical.
I am technical.
And wasn't that two and a half years at Parsons School of Deployment all about technology.
I am a technologist.
Now get the hell out of my technical way while I scream out of this mediocrity and head into a meeting, feigning benificence and the like.
Tonight is Christy Rupp's opening at BPAC, looking forward to seeing her and what she is tinkering with on paper these fine days.

Love is technical.