at a loud place, feeling lightheaded, light-innered.
i found an old document into which i typed during 1993, whilst prone to the machinations and evacuations of corporata. it makes me think of reaching out to someone whose name appears in that mass of text. a former boss, of sorts, though i never consider anyone a boss. a co-worker. i cant find much on anyone else i knew from that place but this woman has a business and a web presence of some sort. and a fairly distinctive name, which gives her SEO bragging rights straight from the birth certificate.
i might send her a random e-mail. i wish i could find my other “boss”, the woman who even my mother remembered as being influential in my life at that time.
it is funny to think about that document. there i was, sitting at corporate, acting busy, typing like a buzzsaw, with adventures into s&m and cocksucking fantasies, and accounts of the previous night’s adventures on the sexchat line of choice for me in those days. it was connected to the french Minitel, and that made all the difference.
who knew and who would care if they knew what i was carrying on about in that little tiny corner of the computer screen. this was when i obscured my work crimes by typing into a window that was teeny tiny and hidden in the corner of the screen. there were other ways to hide these activities but i was ok with the tiny window approach.
i remember C___ (whose name i forgot until i re-read this stuff) saying that a temp had quit or got fired or whatever, and he was a writer, and he left a large quantity of writings/ramblings on the computer where he had worked. “Some of it was interesting!” i remember her saying with apparent amazement. i wonder if she even read it.