Upsetting
Wednesday, April 23, 2003
 
After we hung up the phone I looked around my apartment, marveled at the lack of style, and picked up a copy of DeLillo’s White Noise, which was sitting in what – if you really closed your eyes and imagined hard – you’d call the breakfast nook. I had one of those old Brother word processor things that you thought were so rad because they could back up and correct your typo, and I pulled it out and put a sheet of sticky typing paper into it. Master procrastinator, I spent about 20 minutes trying to set up the margins and line spacing, but I finally got to where I was ready to write my review.
 
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