Monthly Archives: August 2011

Dude, You Stole My Dessert!

I don’t have a photographic memory; I guess that mine is more of a photoshopped memory. It’s pretty good, but there are limitations and allowances, however unintentional.

 

 

Like tens of millions of you (and I wish all of you were reading this, and enjoying my books), I was a big fan of Seinfeld, the show that purported to be about nothing, and it kind of was: both nothing, and everything.

 

So, if I’m not engaging in too much photo or memory-shopping now, recent personal events brought to mind the episode where George Costanza’s crazy, soon-to-be in-laws (who had no idea that licking cheap-o wedding invitations would prove fatal to their daughter, Susan) invite George and his totally dysfunctional parents to dinner.

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I Had a Daydream

I had a dream—or maybe it was just a daydream. It’s hard to decipher what constitutes sleep these days.

 

I had a dream that every single moment of my life was a separate file delivered to my inbox. I had unlimited storage, my computer was working at warp speed (and miraculously, with none of those pesky, ubiquitous virus warning pop-ups) and I had the ability to read through them like Evelyn Wood on steroids.

 

 

 

A passing thought: If Martin Luther King were an insomniac like me, would he have famously said, “I had a daydream.” (?)

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