Tuesday, January 1, 2008 - 5 p.m.

I am fond of moody weather, in stories the beginner's substitute for drama. 

Still, to move off the electronic frontier and back into the pages of books mulled over winter afternoons; to pick up my guitar in "realspace", such as it may be in this small apartment, and sing for other than recording; to appreciate the . . . "naked people," as Seinfeld called them, but turn back time for the woman who is here; to return to fresh meats and vegetables in the kitchen; to turn the pages of Charles Schumann's American Bar and mix the fruits of so many vines and trees . . . .

I have had too much of the Internet.

I look forward to gardens, faces, towns, events of all sort and may well look back more and more on this medium that was neither the message nor much of an environment.