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⚡ June 29, 1999

Chili Con Corny 🍟

An alien doll from Roswell, 1997.

An alien doll from Roswell, 1997.

12:01 a.m. Technically, today is over, unless you haven’t gone to bed yet. You may be in your jammies, but if you haven’t climbed in between the soft sheets, you’re still in the moment called “today.” The time right now is “Tuesday-plus.” That’s the rule.

Of course, now that I’ve done the laundry and cleaned up the house in case I didn’t come back from Roswell because everything they say about alien abduction is true, well of course, the trip has been canceled. Boom! Just like that.

Nothing personal, just business. But, but. I was really looking forward to visiting and hanging around with friends and relaxing in the sun in a place where it is truly warm, unlike here in sunny southern California, where I’m still wearing sweats and socks in my own peculiar little microclimate. Plus, I’m extremely sedentary. Practically sedimentary.

So now I can stand down from my diet, which was merely desultory to begin with. I won’t be needing any extra virtue points because now I’m not going to be having one or more of those incredible Mexican or South American sandwiches that we got hooked on the last time we were there – shredded beef with a swirling of a gooey avocado and mayo mixture, then squished and toasted on a roll just so. Worth steering the mother ship off course from Zeta-Reticulum and making a quick pit stop on North Main.

And, as will happen in these cases, I now have no further excuse for my slothy progress in this web creation affair. I’m not too busy, after all. There’s time enough to go back and read the Sunday papers and take a nice bath and fall asleep over another chunk of Cryptonomicon. One of these chapters, he’s sure to torque up the plot.

And so tomorrow I’m going to take stock and see how far I’ve come, instead of how far I’ve got to go. This is a quick but valuable lesson in do-it-yourself mental health for the self-employed. Whenever I have a particularly long walk ahead of me, I’ve always found that I get along faster by looking down at the ground and from side to side at the passing excitements, rather than staring slack-jawed at the ever-receeding horizon. Plus, you trip a lot less that way.

It’s a Zen thing, you know – instead of looking to where you’re going, or where you’re not, you have to figure out how to know that you are somewhere already. You are where you are. You are already there.

So I won’t be going there. I’ll be staying here. But, if I went, here would be there. But, that was then. This is now: it’s neither here nor there. Simple.

You have arrived. You are here. You are always:

A clip art drawing of a sign saying Here.

Tomorrow, however, is over there. 🐔