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Dead Magenta and Other Fire Clay Lofts Musings

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I should be building my handstand skills. Instead, I’m stuck at Fire Clay Lofts trying to solve my magenta problem. It’s a metaphor. Sort of.

I rocked out so much work yesterday that I should get a prize. Six conference calls, two articles, two detailed outlines, two edited docs, a lengthy client meeting, and an evening business meeting that turned out to have very little to do with business. A fact I discovered as the guy I met with plied me with drinks instead of discussing the “important work project” that needed my immediate support.

My first tipoff? I was supposed to meet him and his project manager, but he’s the only one who showed.

Last week, a guy asked me out for a drink at a local Mexican restaurant. Five minutes in, he said, “I gotta be honest with you. I don’t think this is going to work out.” The bar was packed. In front of us a bowl of fresh, crispy tortilla chips, a salsa flight, and salt-rimmed margs. Even though calling three tiny bowls of salsa a “flight” is stupid, the night was working out just fine by me.

And now my work meeting was apparently a date. I often need to be clued in as to whether or not I’m on a date. I’m always the last to know what the hell is going on. Of course, if you’ve made it this far into the post, you’re already clued in to this fact.

I recently saw The Hobbit. In 3D no less. I wore 3D glasses over my eyeglasses, which — I’m not going to lie — is a hard look to pull off. Now, I love all things Peter Jackson and Tolkien, but this movie was slow going. Singing and dancing! Orcs! Hide! Fight! Escape! Now forget about those orcs and break into another twenty- or thirty-minute song!

I’m not a fan of musicals. What that movie needed was way less singing. Fortunately, it was a theater where you could drink beer. I was well into my second by the time the singing stopped. That movie’s nearly three hours long. I could easily have mastered a handstand in this amount of time.

Right now, I’m trying to print a document in black and white, and magenta just up and died, probably from the boredom associated with disuse. And now I can’t continue to print in black and white until I replace the dead magenta. Once the color’s gone, the whole shebang shuts down. That’s surely a metaphor for something. Metaphor or not, if I try to tell you how much I hate this printer, I will sound like anything but a professional writer.

It’s the loveliest day. High of 61. Today I want to learn how to do the handstand I obsessed about instead of paying attention to The Hobbit. I only know how to climb the wall into handstand position. I’m going to try a real one. I mean, really, how hard can it be? I’ll bike over from Fire Clay Lofts to my local gym and give it a go.

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