Fucking e-mail.

Fucking e-mail.

I swear. Back in the day, when geography meant something, if you left a place you were disconnected from it. Writing an embarrassing letter required an envelope, stamps, a mailbox—intent. Several steps. Even phoning a person required you to be in the moment, ready to talk to that person and deal with the looming possibility of awkward silences—guts.

from roommatefromhell.com, the book/blog that is so excellent, that i fear the moment it will be finished… i will soooo miss reading a chapter each morning so much.

About Jan Zuppinger

Jan Zuppinger has been writing this blog since 2002. He likes to grow vegetables. He likes to eat them too. He has opinions on everything, but sadly no one cares. Jan Zuppinger is not joking, just joking, he is joking, just joking, he's not joking. *click.