April 12th, 2005
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Rain and streets and moving and the quiet April you forget
My company moved last week. Which is to say, we moved it. Friday and Saturday were spent hauling boxes and quadruple-checking tattered Excel printouts itemizing “chair 19″ and “hardware debugger 6″. We now have a place about two or three times the size of the last, a real “office” this time with the name on the door and everything, network cables snaking under a removable floor like so many lost subway tunnels full of rats or slime or Carpathian overlords. I have more room, and now no neighbor except for the scanner PC, which is hardly ever used and so my obese, cotton cat drapes itself morbidly across the carcinogenic pallor of early 90s beige PC mold.
But we have a men’s room, and a river view, and a subway ride full of suits in the morning. I’m just beginning to enjoy my right-of-passage run through the true nexus of a juggernaut economy and a four-million standing army of attache’ carrying wingtips.
“Go back to childhood, just eat apples and read your Cathechism– sit on curbstones, the hell with the hot lights of Hollywood.”
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We are now a mere thirty days away from the public announcement (assumedly via Famitsu) of our grand, belabored epic, and to celebrate we had canned chu-hi and Square Enix wine last night. This bottle was given to us by the producer of Vagrant Story (Yasumi Matsuno), who is in turn managing the slowly rising behemoth, Final Fantasy XII. I half expected to open the bottle and have the cap trip over a pin-prick music box rendition of some Uematsu standard. Instead, we were greeted with something that smelled much like several unsavoury summonable gods and unfortunately did not age as well as the title whose name it bore. Nonetheless I knocked Dixie cups with my boss and our president chorused a request for my support on the inevitable American version.
Why can’t I be only mildly enthusiastic about games so leaving them is that much easier?
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