alex chiang: web 6.0

I awoke this morning with a gin hangover, the taste of cigs in my mouth, and the sound of a very excited Indian cab driver named Gupta yammering into my ear babbling incoherently about my friend Jake’s cellphone, which he apparently lost in the back of Gupta’s cab. I’m guessing that my number was the first in Jake’s addressbook, and so Gupta decided to call me, two timezones to the west, at the ungodly hour of 7 AM so that I could inform Jake that his phone was safely in the hands of an NYC cabbie. At least I hadn’t turned into a cockroach.

The stale taste of cancer in my mouth was a minor concern. The giant hickeys on my neck large enough to declare their own sovereignty were a slightly more urgent problem. I haven’t owned (or needed) a turtleneck since high school, but if ever there were a time and place, today would have been it.

Favorite line at work today: “It’s not what you think. [long uncomfortable pause] Ok, it’s exactly what you think.”