I really have nothing today, but it's been a while. Any longer and things would be awkward between us. Things have been, or seemed, crazily busy lately and I spend my days in a permanently clenched position and my evenings slack-jawed in front of the TV. The dog ignores me, the cat ignores me. I am just a pile of slightly smelly blankets on the couch.
I've lost touch with my e-mail friends and stare blankly at my 3-D friends.
Today I sat on a bench by the water and watched the planes land, flying into the harbor from Dorchester Bay. Some '80s Boston band informed me once that there is no surfing there. This seems fairly obvious to me as there is no surf. The Icelandair planes always come in so fast. Their pilots are all fresh faced, possibly reckless young men right out of the Icelandic Air Force. Who knew there was such a thing? I prefer my airline pilots middle aged and slightly paunchy. As I sat there, I watched the downtown suit guys walk by, one of whom had a gigantic flowing Yosemite Sam moustache. I wonder if he enters contests with that thing.