excerpt from a letter dated April 5, 1997
...It could be this computer [is] causing my drop in energy.
Maybe I should sell it, put it out on a rock and let the weather teach
it manners. It sits here on my desk looking so very efficient and even
threatening--as if it belonged to someone with an MBA from Harvard. But
I have trouble making the dumb thing do what it's supposed to do. Email
for example. I swear things don't always get through, either in or out.
So where does it all go? What limbo are my letters stuck in? And I crash
a lot, not enough memory allocated to a particular task. And I think:
is this the way I want to spend my time, fighting a machine that speaks
in 0's and 1's and bombs??/>!!!##@?? Apple/Macintosh! I now know why they
didn't call it Golden Delicious.