We All Fall Down

That is fucking depressing
I'll miss those walls

Uhmm, I think they call that dust "asbestos".

aww

You were the very best office of them all. How many beers were consumed in you? Annehattans?
Fast'n'Furiouses? How many dogs hung out with me in there? And babies? And rat poops? How many tears did we shed together over yet another Chicago Sky loss? Tsunami? Sarcastic Jay Ryan barb? Iraq war report? Insufficient distributor check? Shut-down fellow independent publication?

We spent three long years together, office. I remember when I first saw you, also via the internet, from in Seattle, WA. It is only fitting that I would see you again now, carefully dismantled, again via the internet. Mostly though I remember all the times in between: they were funny.

Like my boyfriend Colin O'Reilly, to whom (I'm sorry!) we never intended to sell that film script; our stalker Bijou Shell, who then became our stalkee; Steve Diggle, who later, while on safari, changed his name to Steve McDiggle, who was the editor in charge of, among other things, monkeys, although not apes; and every other hilarious joke that went down in or near your walls. An office so well-versed in comedy will likely never be created again.

But you were not just a space for the ha-ha. You were a sanctuary. You were the first space I retreated to when I arrived in town; when I got thrown out of American Girl Place; when Jay Ryan gave me a dollar fifteen; when I was laughing too hard at Mat Daly's "Iranic" comment to see straight—or anything else he ever said; when I had to call that super famous comics artist and explain I'd lost his stuff, oops; when I got that book deal; when I got that other book deal; when I became aware of, and then immediately scared of, the okapi; when some goofy-ass, maladvised relationship went awry and I'd throw myself, again, into my work, or when a goofy-assed, maladvised relationship actually went ok, and I'd bring my new friend there, to see what I did, and meet the people I did it with; and when I grew disgusted with major label music, major television network entertainment, and major publishing house politics. The rest of the world, basically. You were always there for me, then.

I know that our time together was compromised from the start—that likely, there was a wiretap on all phone conversations held within your walls, and moreover that our time together was limited to begin with—because who can believe that would last? But I remain truly sad it is over, office. I will miss you for a long time.