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This Saturday was great. Warm, beautiful, care-free. I went out to breakfast and to the Fabric Workshop with an Asian girl. Then we went to a – get this – a cd store. How retro! How old-timey! I browsed all these hunks of plastic with music crudely scratched into them with clumsy lasers. How quaint! Then we went to the Seersucker district and saw a barbershop quartet on Coney Island!
I kid because I hate. The point of the story is that I bought all the Raymond Scott they had. Speaking of old-timey, we really gave our clocks a kick in the pants this weekend, am I right? (high-five) My office has, maybe, 20 millions clocks in it. Every phone has a clock, gotta set them separately, the clock on the wall. At least computers take care of themselves. But yeah, I’m definitely gonna be walking home in the dark tonight. And I’ll probably get all weepy during sentimental commercials, at pet stores, while shaving (like I can shave at a time like this), all due to daylight savings. Something about clocks lying to me. My body knows what time it is, but all the clocks in the EST, quietly confident, smug even, tell me otherwise.