blogging in the IT room (to the tune of rocking in the free world)

in a cubicle next to a small chinese programmer named clement. i think he thinks i'm working. i'd bet he thinks i think he's working. actually, i think he is working. everyone else has gone to lunch, pizza up the street. i stayed behind so i could sit in the back room, tapping away at an old and ugly keyboard about nothing in particular and several things in general.