(Perforated Lines -- you can't resist 'em)

(covered boat)

(yesterday)Friday, September 29, 2000(tomorrow)


11:15 a.m. Tonight we'll be having a basic Clash of Cultures as the big (not really) finale of Big Brother is broadcast just after the sun has set and the Rosh Hashanah ceremonies have begun. Too bad I didn't take that TiVo thing more seriously ... I could really use one now.

For all those times when you can't be in two places at one time ...

... but then it occurs to me that I'm always, always, always in two (or more) places at one time. Take right now. Right now, for instance, I'm worrying about what I'm going to wear tonight and I'm picturing myself in several different outfits. Long, short, light dark -- I'm no more here, in front of this computer, than you are.

I'm simultaneously upstairs in the bedroom, between the mirror and the closet and I'm also in the big, cavernous hall where the celebrations are held. Plus, I'm standing by the entrance and the exit to the hall, where the people flow by and you get a chance to see what you should have worn, had you only gone out shopping earlier.

I'm also thinking about next year at this same holiday time, as well as last year at this time. For a long time, I really resented these holidays, coming as they do right at the difficult time of the year when summer ends. Since we work in publishing, things are just now starting to pick up steam and gather momentum and it's a very, very bad time to not answer the phone and not conduct any business.

But that's the grand point, of course. You're supposed to sever your earthly concerns in one grand slash at sundown tonight and drift back in time to the old days, those lazy hazy days of contemplation and slow moving decisions and contracts worth the stone they are carved upon.

None of this modern-day nasty multitasking ... no trying on clothes with one leg and hopping down the stairs with the phone on one ear to turn down the boiling water before it bubbles over. No scanning with one hand and FTPing with the other. None of that. No TiVo, either.

12:12 a.m. Home again after a very moving service and a very wonderful dinner. I made it through an entire year! Think of it -- last year at this time this whole web thing was such an unknown and now it's second nature. I write and post as naturally as I used to write in my private journals.

I still get paid the same, but we're not counting tangibles tonight. The restaurant where we found ourselves was playing ancient tunes and we lingered a really long time listening to Bobby Darin, Doris Day, Tony Bennett, and the Lettermen do what they've always done: they crooned.

The woman who is typing the waiter's master's thesis is doing her own doctoral thesis at Harvard on immortality. I wondered if she included the crooners in her studies ... all that moonlighting in Vermont ... sounds immortal to me ... but then, I'm just a sprig myself, what do I know of immortal.

Speaking of sprigs ...

Happy Birthday dear, dear Charlie!

Happy Birthday to you!



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