Well. Not exactly. I still have it. It isn’t smashed under my boot heel. It isn’t at the bottom of my aquarium. That’s because I don’t have an aquarium. Too much upkeep, I say. But, from 4:45am when I wakes up till 5:45am when I starts my exercises, my phone doesn’t exist.
Why? Because I, like like many of you folks, SPEND WAY TO MUCH F-ING TIME ON MY SMARTPHONE!
Yes friends, I could prove my point by citing some online survey about how “blargity blarg percent of the American public spends over 13 hours a day on their phones which correlates to a higher rate of cancer and murder suicide pacts.” I could do that. But that would requine that I SPEND MORE F-ING TIME THAT I DON’T HAVE ON MY F-ING PHONE.
I could have written 7 novels and read through a good part of the Western Canon in the time I’ve spent on my f-phone.
So from now on, when I am in my designated writing time. My phone doesn’t exist.
Please forgive any typos. I wrote this on my phone.