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An employee walks off the job, stumbles into familiar remnants of the past and hurries toward a destination that promises hope and relief.
If anyone, the willing subject and investor of an autobiography would blow the fuse of a lie detector.
The stage is set in a family home, the camera is rolling, but it doesn’t take long for the action to veer from the script.
There is so much to share in a personal blog, with no limits to show and tell.
Two men face off in a round of pain and ideology, not sparing either blows or punches or blood.
There is a serious health hazard lurking under the allure of adventure and profit in Silicon Valley.
A few drinks, some memories, and a few more shots can radically change your view of people.
Car navigation apps have never been flawless; the outcome of a contest between man and machine remains wide open.
When two men and a pretty woman are on a business trip of sorts, with no end stop in sight, routine and a tight budget are bound to prompt any of them to take the initiative.
A company charter flight is boarded by commandos and the questions are not only raised by the security.
FROM THE BOOK:
“They enjoyed a sphere of privacy beyond the reach of open office plan personnel, and had the privilege of receiving guests in their offices, including women who wore heavy lipstick and small handbags. Some of them also received private parcel orders they chose not to receive at home, although this practice was common within the entire corporate hierarchy. The air conditioning vent in the dropped ceiling clickety-clacked over his desk, setting a perpetual rhythm to the agony of a growing workload and the monotony of a stalled promotion.” Limp
“She had come to realize that to achieve this, she would have to let him have the last word and lure him into thinking he won every argument, with no strings attached. He was the heavyweight in the ring of the narrative, calling the shots, moving about with the agility of a retired professional wrestler making a gala comeback—on the assault, cushioned by eighty extra pounds and the privilege of belly-flopping on anyone without the threat of penalty points.” Boner
“He was initially hesitant about the job, because customers with too many incompetent instructions tended to blame the photographer for the results and demanded a rebate. They were disappointed with the way they looked, ignorant of the fact that some of them looked mean, stupid or embarrassing on every single picture. But she was neither. In fact, she was very photogenic: a Generation Xer looking bipolar enough in the flimsy, tabloid sense of the term to appear equally good on the cover of Cosmopolitan, Rolling Stone or Planet Laundry.” Props
“And there was his car and he literally walks out of room No 8 so smug like the Pillsbury Doughboy (no offense intended to Doughboy fans!), fixing the tie he got from Mom for Christmas. I felt like strangling him with it then and there. But then I rehearsed my mantra and turned up the air conditioning to make some white noise.” Yoga
“Well, whatever happened to you? I thought you were invincible. Always in combat with the elements. Tough enough to star in a Gatorade commercial. Or American Gladiator. Now here you are. Did you put snow tires on your carbon fiber bike and pedal here in slalom ski goggles? Hope you’re not bothering to shave your legs in the blizzard to reduce the drag. Mr. Spandex.” Showdown
“A flabby layer of fat settled on his abs and pimples colonized his face. The key to his erection was probably hidden somewhere within a string of code he was working on, but the numbers failed to add up.” AppMan
“Their meetings remained brief courtesy encounters, drawn out into reruns of his fantasies, with slight variations in the script: Clarissa riding the bicycle on the wet cobblestones of the campus, wearing nothing but the broken chain dangling around her; Clarissa holding a naked presentation in the lecture hall with a pointing stick, with him seated in the first row and everybody else locked out; Clarissa naked in the library, wearing only a pair of spike heels and a leather bookmark, like a pageant sash, ascending the top step of the ladder to reach a cryptic volume.” Carousel
“The ride conjured the sensation of a Need for Speed, without silly gadgetry hooked onto a home computer. The contents in the back—a fresh variety of bio-farmed leek, turnips, artichokes and eggplant, and a bulky volume of high-end European drapery—thumped around wildly in the trunk like a gagged hostage performing an exercise of final despair.” Detour
“She said she wanted to get rid of it because it gave her the creeps, that her old man had had a huge gun cabinet and would always put her bad report cards on display there. Liz rambled on about the places people should keep their weapons and their bad habits, as if she had been asked to quote the ten girl scout commandments.” Delta
“Sherman felt an inexplicable fear that one of the agents would pull a black hood over his head and another would stab his neck with a syringe, and inject a revolutionary truth serum into his system. He would be questioned in a subterranean interrogation room with padded walls, permanent fluorescent lighting and doors without knobs, with the right to an attorney, who would never appear. He had once read about the torture tactic of eternally looped music.” Terminal