WORKS ON DIGITAL PAPER

Sur La Table Hamstring Chair, Manhattan

I moved to San Francisco at the height of the Dot Com stock overload hysteria. In many ways, that was the perfect place to be at the time. Lots of jobs, lots of bizarrely enjoyable perks, lots of young people around. It was also a little gross. Lots of Banana Republic sweater/pant ensembles. Lots of young guys with clean haircuts driving expensive cars. Lots of absence of hard-nosed anything. But taking advantage is what we do as a species and I finagled a job with a television station run by an internet company. At first they paid me to be a gopher production assistant type. Then they paid me to run the teleprompter during the news broadcast. Then they paid me to light the shows and operate a camera. Then they paid me to operate a camera and floor direct. The whole time, they paid for after-work continuing education classes in photography, digital design and post-production. Since I had graduated from college with some sort of mushy philosophy-meets-comparative-religions degree, this was all like a second college education. I was ridiculously fortunate. I could never really get away from the bookish end of things though, and I found myself frequently retreating from the video world to the one place I knew I could be alone: Taco Bell. I found one across Cesar Chavez Street and I'd hole-up in the hard plastic booths reading big books, the most memorable of which being a lengthy hardback dedicated to General Joe Stillwell from my father's bookcase, and a truly massive one outlining the full history of the Indian subcontinent, all the while munching on bean burritos with the fire hot sauce. I still find certain solace in reading at fast food joints. Since moving to New York I am constantly on the lookout for a free moment to hunker down in a Taco Bell (rare in this city) or a Wendy's (surprisingly ubiquitous) or a Subway (the healthy choice.) For the most part I can't be carrying around the heavy historical tomes so lately it has all been floppy dollar-priced numbers bought off the rolly racks outside used-book stores. The pocket fit can't be beat.