When I am on deadline, and working on
something at work AND at home, I email
work in progress between work and home
(just in case the floppy fucks, which it often
does). Lately, at diff times, I have blithely
and unintentionally sent off vast screeds of
half-finished notes on this or that to Frank
Kogan, Robin Carmody and — just this
morning — Simon Reynolds. (His dry
response: "Fishing for compliments, Mark?")
All these were meant for me: I get to work,
find no email from me to me, and realise that
someone ELSE on my email list has just
randomly been sent an attachment of half-
baked slurry, and I have komikal rejoinders
to endure when I get home.
The other one is replying to people and
forgetting to remove the CCs from the
original. I have so far only ever had puzzled
"Huh?"s from foax I don't know on this, but
the next step is surely on the way.
― mark s, Wednesday, 15 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)