I’m doing seven nights of live sound this week, working in the studio during the day. Played a couple shows over the weekend. I’m trying to stay out of trouble (ha). Writing as much as I can. This is how I will remember the summer of 2002. I try to get outside a little every day. I sit in the Public Gardens in the afternoon. It’s beautiful there.
Lately I’ve been thinking it would be cool to have a laptop computer, so I can sit under a tree in the park and write all afternoon. I want to type out words. I don’t want to be cooped up in my hot, stuffy room.
Tonight I picked up my cheque from the Marquee. I realized that I hadn’t deposited last week’s cheque yet. I hadn’t had time to go to the bank. Clearly, I am working too much. Clearly, I have too much money. I’m going to buy a laptop.
“That’s dumb,” said Gerry. “A laptop computer. Don’t buy one of those.”
“No, man,” I said, “there’s this place on Cunard Street that’s selling them for two hundred bucks. I just wanna get one to do word processing on.”
“You have four computers sitting in there already. Why do you want to waste your money on all that junk.”
“I got all that stuff in there for like, forty bucks. That Mac Classic cost ten bucks, that wasn’t a waste of money. That’s my pet brain.”
“Why don’t you just take your pet brain to the park and plug it in somewhere? You don’t need another computer to do word processing.”
“I don’t want to have to plug it in. I just want something I can take with me wherever I go. I wanna be able to lie in bed and write. A laptop would be awesome.”
“A laptop,” said Gerry. “What a stupid waste of money.”