Monday, August 02, 2004

Okay. So I realize that all of you have undoubtedly installed your airport cards and managed to hook up your wireless routers ages and ages ago. In fact, by now, your elementary-school-aged children--hell, even your dogs and cats with their very own blogs and such--have probably been wireless for a veritable coon's age.

[Long-Winded Digression]

Do any of you ever wonder about that? Why a coon's age? What with the contemporary proliferation of four-lane interstates and all, I would think that the longevity of a raccoon (which is actually comparable to a dog, but then why not a dog's age?) has, if anything, statistically decreased. So why not a parrot's age? Or a giant Galapagos tortoise's age, for that matter?

[ / Long-Winded Digression]

What I've been blithering on about, in a pitiful attempt to give more substance to what is doomed to be a hopelessly insubstantial blog entry, is that I finally cracked open that little white keyboard on my iBook (does anyone else feel that iBook keys suspiciously resemble Chiclets?), popped in an airport card, hooked up my Belkin router, and voila! I've finally, after a giant Galapagos tortoise's age, gone Wi Fi!

Kudos and adulation are not (absolutely) necessary. (Unless, of course, you simply can't restrain yourselves, then please, by all means, knock yourself out.)

So now I can be online anywhere in my apartment. Hey! Blogging in the bedroom! Blogging in the bathroom! Blogging in the closet! You know . . . because I can.

I can also now finally blog on my bowery front porch, amongst the pots of flowers, wind chimes, and bird feeder. Ah, the tranquiity . . . so soothing, so Zen. I feel compelled, however, to confess that after wistfully complaining to everyone I know that the birds weren't coming to my bird feeder . . . after whinging at tedious length that I felt overlooked, insulted, and horribly slighted because the birds were clearly smugly turning up their little bird nostrils embedded in their little bird beaks at my exceedingly fine and well-stocked bird feeder . . . well, the birds have finally come. House finches, mainly. And they're really quite charming, what with their birdy hunger and birdy fluttering, their birdy pigging out, and six-at-a-time birdy squawking and squabbling over choice positions at the bird feeder, and kooky birdy habits of occasionally bonking into the windows and making the cats short out and fall into seizured-birdy-overload convulsions. So there's that.

There's also a lovely blue jay, who insists on compulsively picking up empty sunflower seed shells and poking them into the pot of my Broadway Lights miniature rose bush. Not the pot with the Red Cascade miniature rose bush, mind you, or the pots of geraniums either, for that matter . . . just the pot with the Broadway Lights miniature rose bush. And then there's the squirrel who, in a vainglorious (but nonetheless futile) attempt to partake of the seedy goodness of the bird feeder, insists on perching on his hind legs on the front handlebars of my bike--chuttering his displeasure and aggravation over this shoddy and discriminatory state of affairs in resonant and aggrieved tones.

It's kind of like a scene from Walt Disney's Cinderella, with all the woodland creatures being all woodlandy and such. Except, like, my chipper and peppy woodland creatures all seem to be highly caffeinated . . . or on crack.

So, in summary. I'm Wi Fi. And I'm blogging indoors. I could be blogging outdoors. But I choose not to. Because, you know . . . I can.

Did I mention that I'm Wi Fi?
Posted by Artichoke Heart | 11:10 PM |
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Books by Artichoke Heart
Beyond Heart Mountain
Year of the Snake

Poems by Artichoke Heart
Songs for a Rainy Season
Toothpick Warriors
Snake Wife
Happy Hour
Girl With A Bowl On Her Head

Pillow Book Courtiers Of The
East Wing
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Pillow Book Courtiers Of The
West Wing
Blogroll Me!

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