Louise Steinman

Monday morning. Went to pick up my new Mac, the one I bought last Thursday from a dreadlocked yogi at the Apple store who told me he dreamed he was a phoenix. "But no one can interpret my dreams," he said. When he was a phoenix, he flew around a room with a lot of other birds. He was eager to die and be reborn. I told him I didn't know what it meant, but that I was confident his psyche was in good shape.