(no subject)
My computer is dead and gone to Valhalla-Penang, residence of the Intel servicing gods. A fortnight! The impending desolation is unimaginable, unbearable - show me one person in this country under 25 who can’t touch-type - I’ve not been without since my father brought one home when we were children. The green blinking cursor stole our attention from the Christmas lights, marked the demise of the television in our household, instituted a half-decade’s worth of time-squabbles with my brother. University lines only intensified the addiction with LAN providing Inter- and intra- net speeds with which to create entire lives overnight, shelves of CDs transferring in blissful beeps. Just one enterprising undergraduate could make life better for everyone, and the all-knowing, all-seeing administration (complicitly) urged on ever more appealing laptop deals and wireless connections. Every screen and my screen, a gateway to a Promised Land flowing with milk and honey, a Garden of Eden with blessings galore -
O sweet prince, how I wish you'd ignore the flights of angels and return!
O sweet prince, how I wish you'd ignore the flights of angels and return!