So I started writing these little entries on the Palm Pilot recently. I got this palm for free just a few weeks ago and I really tried to embrace it. I really tried to “make it mine”. It is barely working. My sense of organization works on a very odd meta level and time is really a bit of a squishy and soft kind of thing around me. I do not have a cell phone. And so I do not have a cell phone with bluetooth… which would have been really great in combination with the new Palm Pilot. (it is a Tungsten T3… it expands when things get really exciting, yes, it is this kind of strange mini computer…)
I got myself a keyboard though. And a tiny version of word was on the little computer, and so I can write my little entries with a hightened level of intimacy, basically anywhere. (That last park entry was written on the Palm.)
Stuff got tiny. The letters I am looking at now are maybe two millimeters high… I have no idea what this could be in inches. 12 perhaps?
Oh, and I also got myself this GPS navigation system, which works with the little palmpilot, and so I never get lost. Actually went to Cape Cod this weekend (a five hour drive in each direction… I will be riding a bicycle uphill in hell for that.) because I knew that I would not get lost. The GPS thing brought the (borrowed) car all the way to the front door of the hotel, and then it broke down. Hope the manufacturer will be able to fix it, or I will have to give out some names… ; )
Somebody is probably trying to tell me that it is time for me to prmanently move away from the big city, to move into a place where dogs roam free and people have the courage to live in their mobile homes.
Some of my more interesting projects recently were handled via email anyway, and it really does not matter if the checks would be sent to manahatta or to my hutta. Hmm…
The first animal seen in Cape Cod was a little fox. It behaved like a giant mix between a cat and a squirrel. Is this how foxes happened? Maybe a dog watched. Foxes are very odd animals. This one just stretched out on the dunes, wiped his behind on the path to the beach and took a foxy dump in the sea grass.
The other animals seen soon after were little rabbits. Crazy little guys. They were such clear fox fodder, it was somehow not even funny. No wonder the fox looked so well fed and happy.
Oh, and the rabbits fought. They fought little territorial battles. As if the grass really were greener on the other side (of the rose-bushes)…
The view from the room was directly onto Pleasant Bay. Such simply still water. I wanted to be a boat and just hang out. Throw my anchor.
It was a bit disturbing to find these floating dead fish here and there. They seemed to be all of the same kind. They looked like some sort of shark. Could it be? Is there research on the Cape Cod sharks? They had the eyes, they did not really have the teeth. Maybe this also was some sort of sign. (The Rabbits were.)
I will not be moving to Cape Cod anytime soon. It must be the water of the ocean that can make strange people even more strange. Most of those whom I had the chance to meet… I am not sure if I would love to live with any one of them.
Oh, and the delicious food I had this morning, nearly killed me throughout the day. It was not a good feeling, as I was driving, somehow blindly, for more than five hours, towards home. Where a pink bottle waited for me…
It was great to be able to listen to about ten hours of radio. Yes, radio is the interestingly uncontrollable device with a built in windstorm, and hidden, magical voices.
I like the voices that whisper, not shout. Some of the singing voices are okay as well, but the spoken word is the really good stuff. At times.
No, this note does not seem to be more personal than anything I would have written on the now seemingly huge PowerBook.
I like writing on the tiny screen, on a keyboard that I can easily fit into my pant pocket. I like how simple this software here appears to be. This is word, but it does not involve some hyperactive paper clip, or those nasty underlines, red for wurdz written da rong way… or grammar, when wrong or somehting. then green.
Typing on this little device feels so intimate and hidden. It feels as if I could write anything into here and nobody would ever even find out.