yeah, well nyerny
Monday, February 14th, 2005
THE SCENE: In the courtyard of ATLAS CAFE, a Nemiz coffee house and haunt of hipsters, JEREMY, a boy genius turned grizzled Unix geek, breakfasts with QUINN, user mythologist, and RACHEL, wife. Around their feet seethe TODDLERS.
Q: On the flight back from London I was eavesdropping on these two hugely fat American tourists. One was convinced that she was going to die from deep vein thrombosis, and the other hated Europe because she’d had to walk everywhere.
J: Ah; so they had deep thought thrombosis.
Gales of laughter, applause, dancing toddlers, confetti.
R: It’s getting on, honey, shall I drop you at the Caltrop station?
Tumbleweeds, distant flute.
R: Medieval, used for laming horses?
J: Oh, right.
Q: Yeah, that’s quite funny.
