In the Zone...

Spent Monday and Tuesday on the sort of mindless repetitive task computers were supposed to do for humanity.

Ho ho ho.

Of course the task itself was computer related, and I once wrote a poem about such work called “The Usual Exquisite Boredom of Data Entry.”

By yesterday afternoon the task had become a sort of automatic muscle memory, and part of my mind was able to wonder a bit (not too much).

So for several hours after lunch I was in some strange autistic zone where I was able to monitor the activities, chat, and occasional jokes of the team opposite while my fingers typed for the audience behind my eyes.