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When I first started writing, I did so with pen and paper and the Selectric was a fantastic advance. Likewise when I did my first book the computer was an incredible leap forward and even something as clunky as Bank Street Writer a terrific help.
In the past month, though, I’ve realized how very dependant I’ve become on technology because of two unexpected events: (1) Some b*l#n+ky m%&[email protected] spilled “apple juice” on my laptop (sure,… she thought that was a more acceptable story than Calvados) and (2) France Telecom cut off my telephone and high-speed internet access once they smelled competition from Free.fr.
So here I am, all alone in my Montmartre garret, as cut off from civilization as a hermit or ship-wrecked sailor. At first my thought was – who needs connectivity? It’s just another intrusion on life.
But then, how do I:
1. Make a lunch reservation?
2. Tell Colette my day’s happenings and woes?
3. Google that guy’s name I took a cooking class from near Perugia?
4. Look up the name of the sculptor whose work I saw earlier today at the Musee de la Poste?
5. Get someone to hook up the damn Freebox?
Well, you get the picture.
I figure (roughly, of course) that for each review of a restaurant or essay on a food subject I write on, I consult websites at least 10 times; for spelling, for dates, for ratings, for days closed, for prices, for provenance of the chef and/or owner, for location, for quotations, references and historical accuracy.
And if you add up the times I check out the weather, headlines, articles and meaningless trivia about some thought that flies across my horizon, you’ve got serious dependency if not addiction.
Today, for instance, I went to Thierry Burlot’s 4th venture, the Cave Edmond, just facing his eponymous resto and was double-checking all sorts of things about the place, weeks ago and then just before and after my visit. While the meal itself occupied an hour of my life, I wondered how much time I’ve actually spent on fiddling around about his Burlotship, his ventures and his wines, featured in this cave in which to eat.
These thoughts were prompted by nothing in particular at:
La Cave Edmond
10, rue Nicholas-Charlet, 15th (Metro: Pasteur)
Closed Sundays and Mondays
A la carte from 20-40 € depending on wine.
Blog: John Talbott’s Paris
©by John Talbott 2008