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November 21st, 2006

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Charlie Boy-

Sorry ‘bout the d-lay; fate has piled upon me a broken laptop and about twenty hours of b-roll, so ya know, it’s tough out here.

And Charles, I do listen, I do! My request for your company at a ramen dinner was only an impulsive, if not completely hopeless, gesture. Oh, please forgive. And please know, I listen/read.

But yeah… twenty hours of b-roll… and we’re talking like student film b-roll. Dudes shooting out the windows of cars while they drive down residential streets, lone dumpsters, low angles of street lights and kitschy signs against barren skies. Sure DV tape is cheap and blah, blah, blah, but there should still be an elegance to shooting. Surely we don’t need twenty hours (20!) of random, pointless, agonizingly amateurish footage for a few thirty second spots… right? Right. Moving on.

Oh god. They’re filing in. My time left to write wanes. {Good lord AppleWorks is horrible… oh Word, Microsoft’s golden star… I miss you…} When will those bastards replace my optical drive… I can’t stand this unclean “public? computer. What is that… Combustion 3? Archaic! And the resolution of this screen, making the icons seem dumpy and less intelligent.

More proof that the workstation is vital to the work. Look at this mess I’m sending you, old boy. I hardly recognize it as mine.

In other news, I’ve taken a chunk out of Lolita and I’ll join the chorus in lauding Nabakov. Top notch. I group him with Nietzsche: writers who tear up every page, every word accountable. No apologies, no mercy, no fear. The language and style as important as the content.

-Shababo (…)

post scriptum: i have ridden the Z three times since my last letter. its rareness was bullshit.

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