A consultant from Palo Alto came in to study ergonomics, marked budget constraints at the top-right corner of a graph pad. Working in this manner he drank beef bouillon from
It’s kinda gonna be Oakland, people walking around Lake Merritt beneath a necklace of lights people talking on cellphones in Arabic, Spanish, Cantonese, Russian, German, Hebrew, hip-hop and everything else,
Listen as you surf the Internet and press the remote of your cable. I am a data packet that wants to be delivered into your electronic arms. Open your gateway.
My God, you made a cold call, pressed a button knowing it was a safe bet. I’m not talking about Enter, Continue or Next. I mean the Mommy button, milky in construct, pliable
Some kind of a joke, to allow me to find love half-way across the country. His arms? His lips? Give me a break. On Skype? For years I waited for someone
OOO can mean any variety of things: I’m not in the office occupying my usual cubicle space and sitting in a chair with my feet raised on a two-drawer file