Sunday, June 26, 2005

Trevor has allowed me to join an unknown (until tonight) rank of people: those who have laptop parties. There I was at Broussards' house, and four of us were sitting on the couches tapping away at our laptops...each doing something different: Ashley, checking her hospital schedule for her upcoming, third year of med school; Gerald, composing love poems to the woman he loves, who has left him for the Summer to do whatever it is she's doing in Austria, Thailand, and Cambodia; Marion, checking airline tickets, I'm sure...planning her next escape from Monroe; and I, getting updated on the blogs I read and sending emails to faraway friends. We were all there being sociable and not at the same time. I found it quite thrilling, myself, being able to carry my laptop from place to wires, no anchors securing me to one, tiresome position, yet maintaining an internet connection the entire time. I felt so free. I felt like I needed to be in a Starbucks or some such yuppy location. I felt like I should have been wearing a pair of cute, sassy glasses, with my hair up in a makeshift know...the kind held in place by my ballpoint pen. I felt like I needed to be perusing drafts of important documents containing the key to finally establishing world peace, all the while feeling guilty about neglecting my love sitting next to me in bed, waiting patiently for me to click the laptop shut for the evening. And then I looked over and all I saw was Gerald furiously composing his fifth sonnet of love and loneliness for the evening. And then he farted.


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