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21st century life

I want to send an Email to my danceserv list: Mali Blues and De La Buena have gigs in March. I glance towards my computer, though I know it's not there. And even if I go to the library, I can't access my address book until my Mac's back. I wonder what to wear today, heavy jacket or lighter, have a vision of myself checking, instead have to wait for the weather channel or WUWM to get around to telling me the temperature.

I have to make a phone call, start my taxes, send an email about French Table, send out PR for the Earth Poets and Musicians, make a poster, get some photos from my iPhoto folder printed, can't do any of it. I have some new poems that I want to type up, and I probably no longer have a typewriter. I depend too much on my Mac's robot mind.

And it died; my Mac's hard drive died. It got old, and now it's getting replaced. At least I have a backup clone of it. When my own, personal, non-robotic hard drive dies, it won't be replaceable. Can't even legally clone it. There's something to be said for robots, though I'm glad not to be one.

I at least can write a blog about this weird world of alien attachments. It's a world I couldn't have imagined thirty years ago. So I'm writing this blog. My problem is I can't access the URL to post it. It's only in my computer. By the time you read this blog, you can assume my streak of Maclessness has ended.

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