I wouldn't say I've been missing it, Bob.
Why I dislike being in my office so much:
But that’s probably colored by my general feeling about offices, which make me feel as though my spinal column is being pulled out, one long nerve at a time, through the base of my skull. It’s not the people, it’s not the job, it’s just the putty clutter, the eternal feeling of 1:57 PM that characterizes most offices, and all the souls staring at computer monitors. It’s like a factory where everyone has their back to everyone else.
On the top border of my monitor, I have taped an inspirational message from "Fight Club." It says: "This is your life. And it's ending one minute at a time."
When I log into Blogger in order to make a post, it asks for my username and password, and it has a checkbox labeled "Remember Me." While it obviously refers to it's ability to save your login information, I can't help but feel a twinge of techno-anxiety. More Grandaddy than Radiohead, like, who doesn't want to be remembered? Will Blogger be the only thing that carries a mental picture of me when I go, even if it's just until the cookie expires? Wouldn't it be easy if you could just tick a box on the humans you interact with: "remember me?"
See, I don't do well in an office environment.




More important, Orson Welles had a canny respect for the audience while maintaining a difficult relationship with studio executives, whom he approached as if they were his intellectual and artistic inferiors. George Clooney has a canny respect for the Hollywood establishment, for its executives and agents, and treats his audience as if it were composed of his intellectual and artistic inferiors. (He is not alone in this. He is only this year's example.) 
