I don’t know if it’s good or bad, but I can now go hours, days, without the terrible reality of the present time seeming more real to me than anything else on a television screen, with the gaps in the New York skyline nothing more than a nagging ache, a faint tug at my attention. Everything changed. Everything continues to change.

Barry Bonds hit home runs 71 and 72. The Oakland Athletics won their hundredth game, which I hope will lead to more stories on their excellent starting rotation (including certified weirdo Barry Zito). I bought a block of Colby cheese and a pound of coffee at the store. I bought a used Honda to replace my beloved but aging and infirm Maxima. Sam Coomes of Quasi humped his keyboard at the Black Cat, while I (inexplicably stricken by a black mood) glared at various people in the crowd. I bought pears and apples and peppers and garlic at the farmer’s market, then bought some vegetable pakora from a stall run by Hare Krishnas. The shooting war in Afghanistan broke out. I saw Neko Case and Her Boyfriends at Iota in Arlington, and they played my two favorite songs off Furnace Room Lullaby.

I don’t know if it’s good or bad, but I can now go hours, days, without the terrible reality of the present time seeming more real to me than anything else on a television screen, with the gaps in the New York skyline nothing more than a nagging ache, a faint tug at my attention. Everything changed. Everything continues to change. None