I Know a Girl, A Girl Called Trash, Trash Can
I was standing next to the dumpster, swinging Lucy in my hand. One, two, three, up into the air and wam, bam. The parts intermingled with my old roof. Lucy was gone. Lucy was the old Zen, gone into retirement over a year ago, she now rests in pieces. I don’t quite understand the joy of destroying at one time fancy electroncis but joyful it was. It was really just the motherboard and case, most of the parts had been pilfered. It was a classic AMD processor, with the memory maxed out to 64M.
Rerun, the Pentium II laptop that had been Zen since Lucy until the tree hit my house is now actually my primary computer. With 8-bit sound, a blue line through the 1024×768 screen, one USB port (so I have to unplug the mouse to rip images from my camera) it’s works great. Well, graphics with patterns in it freezes the I/O to almost not, ripping a three minute CD track take like seven minutes. It’s going to San Francisco with me.
Unless I visit a cypercafé I expect to be off line next week. Unless one of 余艾蕾 parent’s neighbors got wireless without a password. Hmm.
