Third consecutive night of staying late at the office. Sorta big thing tomorrow, by office approximations. Last night, I logged out around 230am. At midnight, I saw our guard's doppelganger. Might be my astigmatism. Second time I saw something like it though. I told my colleague before she has one and she jumped at me. Friday night I was with 2 guy colleagues here also and out of the blue I plugged in Smashing Pumpkins and crazily mimicked Billy Corgan's voice doing Butterfly With Bullet Wings. "Despite of my rage, I'm still just a rat in a cage." Junee freaked out with the freakish precision. Then I did Gary V's Di Bale na Lang. Hay. Stress and the boundaries of insanity it pushes you to.
Anyway, I caught this short story by Woody Allen in The New Yorker in the light of the Madoff hullabaloo and its whirlwind of entanglements. The story is hilarious though, about fucked-up clients who ended up as lobsters to exact their revenge on the crazy sonofabitch by pincering his nose.
3 comments:
I love The New Yorker! I have this book; it's a compilation of fiction culled from The New Yorker. The one written by Woody is one of my favorites. It's a detective story, if I remember it correctly.
I also like the one by Jonathan Franzen.
Pahiram naman nun Andy. Pag magawi ako jan sa mla anytime soon. Last wk andyan ako.
I'll send you photocopies of the ones that are really good in the book. Yung kay Jonathan Franzen at Woody Allen yung paborito ko.
What's your snail mail addie? You can e-mail it to me at: andybriones@gmail.com
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