Today I did an interview. It was my morning. It smelled like Dark Hall espresso. At 2:03 PM, with a nigh obsolete camera phone front-facing, I sat on my Modernica Cleon couch. James Wilson-Taylor, a seasoned DXH correspondent, began his stately intro as I zhuzhed. My shocked locks were ill-prepared for selfie presentation. All of me was. Come 1:58 PM, Zoom had betrayed me. Through laptop, I am better framed. The app’s camera malfunction left me no choice but to contort myself via iPhone thusly; posed in a front shoulder raise, gripping 220 grams of rose gold technology, I tried to appear poised. Adam Ant scolded me as I readjusted the libertine lock. My hair was standing but would it deliver? It’s kind of tough to tell a scruff… I paused the cassette in my head. Trying to focus on James’ questions, I kept zhuzhing.
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