I miss you little laptop. I left you in a taxi the other night while I fell out puking. You were great! I bought you with the money that I was saving for an engagement ring to that girl that dumped us to fuck that bum down the street, thus earning you the nickname "The Ring." When I moved out of that apartment and needed a mobile compter to work on while living on couches, you came into my life. I spent my entire savings on you at Tekserve that Saturday morning with only enought to buy a hot dog on the way home.
Everything that we've ever gotten to stay alive in this shitty economy came from craigslist, so it's only fitting that i post your epitath up here. So, now some dumbass fucker has you and doesn't even know of your abilities. They will probably only start up 1% of the software on you and dump the rest. You now can send the oh so mighty poser's email vs. rendering incredible images and making music.
Through all that you went through, you deserved a viking funeral. I'm sorry to leave you in that taxi, but i guess we had to part just as drastically as we met. Life is fleeting and you reminded me that material objects are nothing once again, just like you did when i met you.
Our Moments
You played Mozart for me when everyone went to bed and I needed to calm down.
You saw my face when i was sick from living in that loft with no heat.
We spent hours making images together.
We traveled the entire country entertaining people.
We fell flat on our face while skating through the lower east side, narrowly escaping the path of a bus in the ice where you got your dent.
We drank hours of coffee together in many coffee houses that we called "The Office."
I bought you a bag and called you MiniMe.
I kept you clean and up to date by the minute.
You were the only piece of funiture i had for a year.
You helped me dig myself out of the gutter and put my into my first apartment.
We held court at the St. Marks.
Color dodge this Motherfukker!
We created some of the most beautiful stuff i've ever done together.
You belonged to one of the .00001% of computer users that could run you without a GUI.
You filled my apartment with music during the black out.
You were a tough little son of a bitch.
There was laughter, there were tears, we topped a lot of beers.
May you get the superdrive you always wanted in a better place where you can finally rest, so spin down little warrior, spin down.