I ate at Joe's Stone Crab once.
There was a line to get in.
I ate lunch
there with my co-workers.
We were at a computer expo at the
convention center.
Was it named after
Arthur Godfrey, or Jackie Gleason?
Past glory. I remember
when the IBM PC-AT was
the hottest thing going. The barrel-shaped key.
The
hard-drive that crashed. The portable was as big as
a Naugahyde briefcase. By
Samsonite, say. Battleship Grey.
I told them the coming thing was desktop publishing,
and I'd been
doing it, with a typewriter and a copier, since 1976. I showed
them an example of
a correspondence novel. READFEST '76. They didn't believe
me. They thought I was
too far out. I was out there. I was W. O. D. And that's
'way out there. It retrospect,
I was right. At least about the computer.
Maybe not about the novel.
Maybe not about daily typewriting. Maybe not about
enema vérité.
What you see on the end of the fork when you really look.
Because you had to eat with chopsticks.