5.10.00

Well now that little and littler Internet-based company hired me full time and I've been there just this week salaried, benefited, optioned, and hence enslaved, trying to get my sea legs. The best part of the job is the desk, which is this wooden generic thing, in itself not ideal but quaint nevertheless. No... the best thing is really where the desk is located. Yes. I got the corner, a bona fide brick-and-mortar corner. I look at it when I'm not looking at my computer screen. I gaze at the rectangles haggard in age and sometimes swallowed up by grey fillings. The topography of that wall is more than I could survey in a lifetime and I'm content to map only small portions, momentarily, fleetingly, between words. But when I don't feel like looking at the wall or the screen I can turn my head, indeed swivel the chair, lean back, and rest my feet on the wide low windowsill of the 12-foot window supporting the ceiling. Yesss, the clearest tallest view of the old street below framed in plastic-green ivy, and it is all mine. And sometimes I go down from there to where you might be and walk across the square to the café and read the article I'm shaping or maybe I just go to the bank and deposit the paycheck.

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