Tampa Gals
My last sojourn in the Sunshine State was 20 years ago. I was relocated to Tampa and tasked with fixing that office while looking after six others around the state. In Tampa there was a particularly noxious young sales rep, a cynosure for so much of the office drama. One day, before I was able to free her up for a new career opportunity, she passed me in the office and offered me a “Happy Easter” followed by a quick…“oh wait, sorry. I forgot.” The obvious attempt at anti-semitism with a saccharine delivery was delivered in a Tampa accent that I hear every time Pam Bondi opens her mouth. Happy to hear that Pam will be back in Tampa, where both she and that blonde sales rep from two decades ago can both fuck right off, together.
I joined a local co-working space when I tired of the more corporate version. It’s grittier and more down to earth like I like, with just enough ‘founder energy’ in their marketing copy to make me feel young and relevant. Maybe tomorrow I’ll actually show up there and do some damn work.
Chatting with the same AI I used to write some transparent robo copy that I’m ashamed to have posted on social. It’s in the process of redeeming its robo ass by helping me sort out some macro life plan shit.
AI is overrated. Not entirely useless, but seriously over-hyped. It is an unreliable assistant and a terrible writer. It’s also embarrassing if you chat at it like a friend or therapist or confessor. Pathetic.
Currently reading: Mumonkan by Koun Yamada 📚
Trying to focus on the Netflix programming, but remembering that it’s written and filmed to be watched with attention that fades in and out with simultaneous device use. Thus this post, composed during the lavish, preposterous ‘Bridgerton’.