unstuck in time

I was approached last night by my boss in one of those airs of �we need to talk.� Fortunately I have grown out of my childhood tendency to accept guilt even before learning the accusation � just for the sake of getting off trial and keeping peace � and instead I faced her with all innocence. She�s not frightening, but she is an attorney, a partner, nonetheless, at a huge law firm on Park Ave. that represents the entire entertainment industry for all I know. She�s not frightening, but she is also never wrong.

Sometimes I�m wrong. There are a great many things that I do without thinking. I often speak without considering the consequences. Why should I wait for the feeling to pass before I express it? Yes, odds are I�ll change my mind, but I�m thinking *something* right now and for all I know you need to hear *something* right now.

I love the idea of infinite possibilities within a finite framework; perhaps because that is how I like to live my life. For instance, there are infinite possibilities of sentences (meaning, word-order, etc.) I can construct, but they all will be made within the finite framework of a grammar. There are infinite possibilities of finger prints, but all within the framework of a fingertip.

I am structured and regimented. But within my routine the possibilities of scenarios are infinite. This is comfortable to me � as long as my framework remains like bedrock � and I do not apologize for the lacking perfection in my day-to-day performance.

My boss isn�t that kind of person. Fortunately they (she and her husband: both partners at the same firm) don�t need me to be an attorney-type (which they have told me I am not suited for) in order for their children to love me, and in order for me to feed them well: both responsibilities I execute expertly.

Her days do not include infinite possibilities. �Mixing it up� might included jazz instead of classical, or orzo instead of rice. So she anticipates the future more than I do. Her life is linear. She can date her success today back to the fact that she was on honor roll in the third grade and never lost that status.

She never spends today solving yesterday because yesterday was solved before she fell asleep. Hell, nothing out of the ordinary worth solving came along.

So last night she approaches me on the sofa where I was watching television and jotting in my notebook this one sentence over and over again with different wordings.

�Do you download music?� she began.

I expressed to her briefly my intentions with Kazaa which simply put are to sample music before buying. She�s seen my CD cases, so she knows I do indeed cough it up for the record stores. It really is true, though, and I don�t burn entire albums because they just don�t look so cool, there are no liner notes, they don�t sound so cool, and shit: I don�t mind being a patron of the arts.

I patronize artists.

Innocence, remember? That was the look on my face.

She proceeded to tell me that �They� were now able to trace users who download music, find them in their beds while they�re sleeping, and shoot them. Perhaps the situation has not escalated to that point of danger, but there are a few lawsuits pending.

A student at Princeton who burned albums for sale got pinched.

My boss� concern is her reputation (naturally) and she just would really hate for her or her husbands name to ever end up on some �list� (or however they chronicle that information) of music-thieves and vagabond boot-leggers.

I assured her my usage was not extravagant, and that I deleted songs I�d sampled after buying the albums, or saving them to the hard drive � They can�t monitor that can They? � and there were no more than a couple hundred songs present right then.

The word �hundred� sounded real big to her.

�Yes, perhaps, but They are looking to make examples, and because of our profession I fear They might detect that.�

�Isn�t that a little creepy?� I asked.

�Well, you know how to get online and find the songs you�re looking for, why wouldn�t they be able to retrace the same search back?�

�Yeah! But I don�t know where they live.�

�I actually don�t really understand it all, and this might not end up being a big deal, but I read today that several lawsuits had been brought forward and I just want to be on the safe side.�

God bless the safe side.

Err on the side of caution.

Better safe than sorry.

I saved all my songs to the hard drive and deleted Kazaa like a good girl. I ain�t trying to front. I�ll be a rebel in my own home.

Speaking of which, my mother finally called today, and during the conversation she told me all about her new sofa.

This means I get a gorgeous down-cushioned, maroon (school colors, yeh?) sofa for my Very First Apartment Alone this fall. Come see me! This sofa is huge. Two people can sleep together on it (especially when there are intentions for intimacy).

Come Friday!

Free alcohol.