6/9/2014

The day ran like a repeat, but that’s not quite right, is it?  Rerun has certain connotations, it is the Home Improvement episode in which Tim Allen’s charm wore thin, and that’s not what today was.  What happened was that the moments became detached from their context, floated from one to next without any connecting flights.  It was raining and my shoes got soaked.  I wrote Anna some okay emails based on incomplete information.  The fog shrouded the buildings across the Onassis Reservoir as I cut through Central Park, wandering and almost sweating.  I purchased discount cereal from a minimally polite cashier.  These happened in no particular order, some of them are still happening, they all feel like they’re still happening.  Is it possible to feel nostalgia in real time?  This is a bold new experiment in taking yourself seriously:  Today felt like I was remembering it in real time.  And that’s not a rerun, that’s the clip show at the end of the sitcom.  You’ve seen these moments before but you don’t mind, and not because the hackneyed plot tieing the moments together is in any way compelling, but because you liked these moments the first time around and you’re going to miss them when they’re gone.  There has to be a limit to this, though.  I won’t spend too long telling you about listening to the Tigers game now, about passionate pleas of Metro Detroit Ford Dealers and the sticky sweetness of Jim Price giving ‘57 Chevrolets the they deserve.  You’ve heard that song before.  It’s a good one, though, turn it up.