My hotel was next to the technology museum and the art museum. San Jose Museum of Art’s logo was a distended red star; there was a show of conceptual art on. I eventually found a McDonalds and was served an outsized meal by someone who couldn’t understand my Briddish accent. I went into a bookshop, a grocery. The colours, packaging and smells were different. Brown paper, cinnamon. I saw offices for Bank of America and Adobe. Walking around the wide streets and sidewalks I found the old quarter, wooden houses with people who didn’t have anything to lose in the impending dot-com crash sat on the steps.
The freeway to San Jose had adverts for dot-coms on its billboards. I’d just left a company that did work for dot-coms and I was at a company that wanted to be a dot-com rather than write another hit game. I saw Steve Jobs live on stage, listened to lots of technology presentations, and negotiated an open source license with a company that wasn’t there for a product I’ve never finished.
In the evenings I talked Evie on the other side of the Atlantic, called room service and tried to work out how chicken was a vegetable, raided the minibar, watched episodes of “Xena: Warrior Princess” that hadn’t been shown in the UK yet, and beat off my jet lag.
This all worked its way into the art that I made sat on my hotel bed with my new blueberry iBook running a copy of Corel Draw! that nothing will run or read now.