Sometimes at work while I'm typing I like to close my eyes for a little bit, just to see what it's like. Sometimes at work, too, while I'm typing and I have my eyes closed, I like to rest my head on something comfy, like the back of a chair, or a desk, or a large concrete brick. Sometimes at work I can't remember what happens sometimes at work next because I wake up four hours later, and find that I have typed a column which I never read from Lasker's Chess Magazine, 1923, with full analysis of a game which I have never played over, and that I have a bag of Swiss cheese tied around my ears.
But let's not go into those details now, because sometimes at work I actually have ideas, very useful and productive ideas, such as the following:
- If I ever had a boy I could call him Noam and I would put him in the back garden all the time and then he would be a garden Noam.
- Tomorrow, I might buy a can of tuna, and put it on top of the piano, and it can be a piano tuna.
And then, at this point, I start to get distracted from my distraction, and think to myself about all the piano accordions around the world, and why don't people invent violin accordions or mandolin accordions, and then start thinking about violins and mandolins with gigantic squeezeboxes attached to them. (It could happen, you know.) So there's no need to go any further into that, is there.
Tim, your links stink, you fink!
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- The briefs...
- ... and the brieflets
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