After Super Bowl Sunday… Monday morning. A single artery slightly to the left of my pineal gland pumps gin-infused headache into my frontal lobe in simultaneity with the overhead clock’s incessant tick.
How to write about Apple products when the aftermath of last night’s alcohol-soaked football madness makes me incapable of doing anything but watch that staccato timepiece twitch towards some impossibly far-off time: to when my fingers can type their way out of their tremens; to when my mouth isn’t ash-dry as the taste of the Colts’ humiliating defeat, when I can spill out words of a new Apple product or rumor as readily as I am — here, now, in hangover hell — to vomit up my spleen?
Tic. Tic. To the feeds. And suddenly, a way out of my nauseous, neuralgic writer’s block. A clock, just like the one torturing me, but created from the casing of an old iBook G4, with the pendulum of an Apple mouse flowing into upwards into churning horological guts.
An Etsy find, sure, and already sold out… but this I can write about. Now if only the feeds would spit out some Apple-inspired hangover cure, or a video from the Woz about why the New Orleans Saints suck. Perhaps then I’d somehow find a way to make my way through the day.
