In the last episode, our heroine tried every idea presented by her kind audience, trying desperately to unlock her beloved iPod. To no avail. The telephone people said it would be $70 to answer a question. Our heroine was left in despair (well, not really, since a kind one from Apple volunteered to take a look at it if i could get to Cupertino).
On a lurch, our heroine wandered into the Apple Store, lured by the promise of an Airport Express (which won’t be in stores until July… foiled). She mozied up to the Genius Bar, drawn in by the big screens with interesting facts. After waiting as a poor man never managed to get his guitar to talk to his GarageBand on his particular machine, our heroine told the genius of her woes. He asked if she’d done this; she said yes and noted that she had done that and that and that. He was startled. He attached the iPod to his machine. No avail. It was closing time. He handed her a refurbished one and told her to be good to it. She was ecstatic.
To be noted: our heroine was also smiling because she overheard the best nugget ever from a random Apple employee:
… I had a different device from … oh, wait… err, i can’t mention them here.
::giggle:: I guess you can’t talk about competitors as an employee at the Apple Store.
I’ve been rearranging my random Ani iTunes thanks to your website…then I read on and see how interesting, how extensive one can be…and she has an Apple Computer, bless her soul…I too have broken my iPod, and so it remains, dead.
I’ve been rearranging my random Ani iTunes thanks to your website…then I read on and see how interesting, how extensive one can be…and she has an Apple Computer, bless her soul…I too have broken my iPod, and so it remains, dead.
Apples of perception of a
slighted sappho
spoken lady speak
shadowed electric red silk
of spun ideas
spider web goddess or pagen
dreams electric
of rythems and finger tapped
of spoken words exhaled in
finer moments of the ranted
irony of sounds in machine
PS: i hope you don’t mind poetry on your blog. but this is what comes to mind. always had trouble with essays of prose…there is more truth in poetic discourse: away from that platonic drab which is so male centric.