Monday after work I got a checking account at
a branch bank in my supermarket, I rented a post office box,
I had my telephone turned on. Gas and electricity were part of
my rent. I was on the worldwide web at work and learned to use
a web browser and electronic mail. I found former mail art people
who had made the transition to computers. By looking their names up
in a search engine. The computer at work used a hard drive. There was
a high-density 5¼” floppy drive or a 3.5” diskette, but my computer at home
took a low-density 5¼” disk. I didn’t want to write at work anyway. I wanted to
apply myself. I got a
and a library card at the Gwinnett County Public Library in Lilburn.
I was set. I had everything I needed. They paid us every week but held
a week back. I had an income tax refund from my job at the base
and a bank credit card with a $300 line-of-credit. Enough to get
moved in and feed myself until payday. I didn’t go
to sports bars or gentlemen’s clubs.
I went to work and home and at home I wrote.
I didn’t write at work but I did read things I downloaded
off the Internet and printed out on the company printer.
Did I have a printer? We had a big one we shared.
Everybody used it for personal use. Shoppiug. Research.
They didn’t want you to use it for gambling, pornography,
weapons, or extreme forms of political activity.
No hate speech. No titty pictures.
No bare ruined choirs. I was like a monk
in a monastery. Ascetic. I didn’t go to Hooter’s after work.
I did go to a Borders on the weekends. At Gwinnett Square Mall.
I bought a new book once a week and went to a movie in the mall Cineplex.
Stephen King said being rich was being able to buy a hardback book.
I was rich. I went to a movie and ate at a Fuddruckers.
World’s greatest hamburger.