“the computer dog”
read the cardboard lawn sign, and I laughed. What a weird concept for a small business! Like… maybe this guy has a dog, and it’s the mascot for his computer-fixing side hustle? Then I got a little closer and realized it actually said, “The Computer Doc.”
How funny, I thought. You switch one letter, and the entire meaning changes.
You might think that on a long solo pilgrimage, you experience profound thoughts about, like, god or human nature or something. Sometimes that’s true. But other times, you conduct a comprehensive exploration of all the alphabetic permutations of the phrase “The Computer Dog.”
Highlights:
the computer fog (it’s a virus)
the computer hog (he just keeps all the computers that come in)
the computer hug (for when your computer’s feeling down)
the computer dom (for when your computer’s feeling horny)
the computer dot (uh, I believe the term is “pixel”)
Computer dox, that’s malaria medicine for your computer. Computer doy, a holdover from the ’90s, like, computer doy, you don’t know what’s wrong with your computer? Computer doz… puts your computer right to sleep.
Then I glanced up and thought, Hey, a lake!
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Freedom is skipping stones on a beach while everyone else is at work.
*
I leaned under a birch tree in someone’s front yard. I had no home, so the world was my home. And in that moment, my home was rolling farmland and beech forests, the glittering surface of Owasco Lake, and a cascade of spade-shaped leaves overhead, serrate edges rimmed in golden sunlight.
If gold is valuable because it’s rare, than what about this?