12:58 a.m. Ok. It's safe to come back now. I'm sweet and mild-mannered again. Really. The coast is clear and the buttons are sorted.

And here's great news: I got out of the house today! I've been sprung! I went for a nice long drive to sign a bunch of papers in the conference room of this office establishment.

This is a photo of real people going about their real jobs under those nice bright lights in the ceiling. No SAD moments here. And this was but one room in the huge hive.

There is a giant stock ticker hanging from the ceiling. Everything is so clean ... and since this is Friday, the workers are wearing their casual duds. That was the only disappointing part.

Golf shirts and dockers and Topsiders and loafers -- what kind of office is this? I was hoping for some suits, some scarves draped in unusual ways, some men in crisp white shirts and ties. But it was not to be.

Have I ever mentioned that I don't drive? I don't. It's not that I can't -- I just haven't bothered. Yes, I've been living in California for almost ten years now and no, I haven't bothered.

I live in a city where I can walk to most of the common establishments: post office, bank, supermarket, sushi, chili dogs, book stores, new and used, video rental ... and when someone needs me someplace too far to walk, some other one will always drive me there.

I am a professional passenger, with Thomas Guide, magnifying glass, the banana of change, a little Mag lite, a cell phone, and even a disposable camera at the ready at all times. The disposable camera is for taking the picture of any nefarious criminal who tries to bump and rob us.

I heard on the news that if you whip out a camera, they will get scared and run off instead of trying to scam you out of all your hard-earned money. Seemed a good idea at the time. But now the batteries in the thing have permanently welded it to the inside of the glove compartment, so we'd have to surreptitiously scrape and yank it free and then merely pretend to take pictures.

But this is also Hollywood, and that's what everyone else does, anyway.

Still no Daily Enlightenment. I'm beginning to worry that I might have driven the poor monks away in my peevish attempt to eat more than my weight in bread yesterday.

I'll just have to do a little homegrown koan of my own, then. The third slice of raisin bread is always less than the second and the second is less than the first. You'll never be a grasshopper if you eat like a pig.

Too many hours on the road drive your thoughts away. Red tail lights stretch all the way to the horizon and you dare not look in the rear view mirror for fear you will see yourself looking back from yesterday.

Finally, it is Friday. And then suddenly: moon sets. Perfect.