Start a DSL drip, stat

August 10, 2006

So last night Adelphia, my not so friendly local cable provider, managed to push Boca Raton metropolitan area back into the stone age, or at least the early 90’s. One minute I’m flipping between Work Out and TRL, checking email and blogs, and glancing toward my book when commercials are on both channels at the same time (in other words, at my ideal media saturation level) and the next minute, utter darkness on the television screen and nasty server error pages on my Mac. Aaargh! Since D has a homework assignment he must transfer from his Gmail onto to his flash drive before his evening meet up with classmates, I dutifully call Customer “Service” and wait on hold for 20 minutes for the following eight second convo: “You’re in Boca? Yeah, Boca’s out.” He muttered something about construction, which added insult to injury. It’s bad enough that the world is full of construction on condos I can’t afford, it’s worse when those condos steal my wiredness at the same time.

Being the intrepid addict I am, I had the foresight to DVR Project Runway (for some reason the setting up DVR part still worked) which alleviated the worst of my anxiety and left me to do some non-wired things. Thing one was hitching a ride to campus with D and finishing End of Story by Peter Abrahams while I waited for him. The business building, unlike the library, is spiffy and new and I wanted a change of scenery. I checked End of Story out of the public library on Salon’s recommendation as part of my plans for the homework-free two weeks. The reviewer said it was highly readable, and he was right. It’s book you can tear through. My favorite part is that the heroine is like an edgier version of me. Her name is Ivy Seidel and she is a recent MFA grad (well, me in a couple of years anyway) who is trying to break into print. She lives in Brooklyn and works at a bar. Her writing buddy sells a screenplay, and she inherits the creative writing teaching gig he’s been doing at a maximum security prison upstate. She really really really wants to be a successful novelist, but, like me, she wonders if she has the guts. Well, it turns out she does for reasons that I won’t go into for plot spoiling reasons, but that turns out to be maybe not a good thing. It’s not great literature, but it’s effortlessly written. The story just sucks you in and the writing is probably what you define as “muscular” while still having a sense of humor. It’s also an interesting collection of characters to throw into a suspense novel. My only gripe is that to me, as a wannabe writer, Ivy becomes completely unbelievable in the last 75 pages or so. No way, with a story pending at a major publication, would a young writer do the stuff that she does. If you can suspend that disbelief, though, it’s a lot of fun. After I finished the book, little did I know that it would be another forty minutes until Daniel finished his group project. I had brought my notebook with me with the idea that I might do some writing, but as usual that proved too optimistic. I instead reached for the January 2006 Poetry magazine that I also stuffed into the bag (I’m really into delayed gratification) and tried my best to ignore my stomach. Pretty soon I couldn’t, though. I was starvatious. By the time D was done, it was after 9pm. HUNGRY.

When we got home, we threw the frozen pizza in the oven and reached for the beer. D’s mom read us a passage from that book History of the World in Six Drinks or something like that, and they said beer was basically liquid bread, which worked for us. We distracted ourselves from the hunger pangs with The OC on DVD. The end of the first season is in sight! I think we will finally polish it off tonight. I am finally starting to understand why true fans got bored with the third season. They had been putting up with Marissa for two years already!

Fortunately, when I woke up this morning all of our connectivity was restored, just in time for nonstop coverage of long lines at Heathrow. All of a sudden complaining about a few hours of absent cable service seems kind of petty. I know a couple of readers of this blog were traveling today and my best British friend is returning to England after a nine month world tour. Eeeee! Here’s hoping everyone gets home safe (likely) and sane (less likely, but you were all kind of crazy before).

Time to catch up on the PR!


One Response to “Start a DSL drip, stat”

  1. Diego Says:

    Frida’s mom always used to say that a beer is a sandwich in a bottle, or so Frida used to tell me when we first met. Well, it turns out that not all mom’s realte beer to bread. It also turns out (since I wasn’t drinking back then) Frida thought I wouldn’t mind her drinking her sandwich in a bottle as much (I never did mind, just for the record–imagine my luck, a teetotaler that doesn’t have to work at getting his date tipsy!)if she attributed the sandwich comment to her mom. Start a liquid bread drip, STAT!!!!

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