At noon I met up with a friend to play cribbage but could not focus. I lost by six points.
I came back home to clean my house and hopefully collect myself, find focus.
The house was cleaned. Bob Dylan sang from my kitchen about girls from the north country and for an expanded moment in time, I felt un-real as in not real, not existing in current time - year, moment, seconds passing at regular intervals. I was the only person who experienced this moment. It was beautiful.
A friend summarized me as the simplistic observations and ideals of Miranda July with the unfortunate awkward scenarios of Larry David. I decided to let this one ruminate.
