Monday, September 09, 2019

tangled hitchcockian web

Sometime yesterday evening between about 7pm and 10pm, I misplaced or lost (what's the difference) my phone, or, it was stolen, who knows. I only know I messaged Alanna at 6:55 to say I was about to arrive to take her to rehearsal, and then at rehearsal I was like 'where's my phone? it must be in my coat pocket' when I finally checked it wasn't and I was like 'it must be in the car' and if it is, I can't find it. Really odd, and I just don't know if it's been stolen (?!) or fell out of the car (is that even possible?), either way, Find My iPhone says it's offline now, which I suppose means all kinds of things. Surely it's in the car.

But this is where the fragility of my/one's daily life and identity comes into play. Because I want to be able to blog, I check my gmail on my phone, and leave the old email up on my laptop (this is confusing to read/explain, don't worry about it) and so when I wanted to check my gmail on my laptop I couldn't remember the password, because I keep passwords like that on my phone, and now my request to be allowed to view my gmail is under review by, I don't know, google. I am falling through the abyss like the beginning of Mad Men crossed with some scene I'm probably misremembering from The Matrix. 

It'll all sort out and I'll be back in the flimsy fabric of whatever we currently think of as reality, schmucks that we are.

No comments:

the early 70s was all juxtaposition

October 1970, everyone had their arms out in the air, from Barbra to, um, whoever that is on the left, to Thumbelina. This is from the Sprin...