Strings of Advanced Code
Good morning!
It's almost 11.
I can think of nothing to say, and will write more after lunch.
But first: I have a terrible dilemma. The dilemma is: should I go to the library over lunch or not? If I don't go get a new book, I will finish the only reading material I have here long before the end of the day. If I do go, I won't finish the Vonnegut book I have here because I'll have spent all my time getting a new book. I essentially cancel my need for the library if I fulfill it.
. . .
Earlier today, one of the counselors down the hall said, testily, "persistance pays." And then she hung up the phone. And just now she said, in a sultry voice, "what did you dream about?"
One of the research requests that came in last night is for job details relating to "COMPUTER PROGRAMMER (DATA ENTRY)." Which should be simple, because the 17 year-old kid doing 13 word per minute data entry down the hall in the secretaries' room stops filling out fields on tax forms every half hour to whip out a couple strings of advanced code.
Yesterday I walked around Grand Avenue with a book. I saw a glimmer on the street, because there was a smudgy white thong in the gutter. The front of the thong was covered in sequins. In this moment I decided that I should carry my camera at all times, if only its gears weren't soaked in liquor spilled from amish's defective bottle of jack daniels. And if only its lens didn't make a sound like an unoiled robot sent back from the future to kill us all every time I tried to turn it on.
Okay, now I'm really shutting up till lunch. I hope to return with more engaging tales that have nothing to do with libraries, but maybe something to do with underpants found in the street.
It's almost 11.
I can think of nothing to say, and will write more after lunch.
But first: I have a terrible dilemma. The dilemma is: should I go to the library over lunch or not? If I don't go get a new book, I will finish the only reading material I have here long before the end of the day. If I do go, I won't finish the Vonnegut book I have here because I'll have spent all my time getting a new book. I essentially cancel my need for the library if I fulfill it.
. . .
Earlier today, one of the counselors down the hall said, testily, "persistance pays." And then she hung up the phone. And just now she said, in a sultry voice, "what did you dream about?"
One of the research requests that came in last night is for job details relating to "COMPUTER PROGRAMMER (DATA ENTRY)." Which should be simple, because the 17 year-old kid doing 13 word per minute data entry down the hall in the secretaries' room stops filling out fields on tax forms every half hour to whip out a couple strings of advanced code.
Yesterday I walked around Grand Avenue with a book. I saw a glimmer on the street, because there was a smudgy white thong in the gutter. The front of the thong was covered in sequins. In this moment I decided that I should carry my camera at all times, if only its gears weren't soaked in liquor spilled from amish's defective bottle of jack daniels. And if only its lens didn't make a sound like an unoiled robot sent back from the future to kill us all every time I tried to turn it on.
Okay, now I'm really shutting up till lunch. I hope to return with more engaging tales that have nothing to do with libraries, but maybe something to do with underpants found in the street.
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