Your cocktail sir,





2003-11-23 - 10:43 a.m.

I got my car back. Finally. I need to take it in and get it detailed. Wax applied, dust vacuumed, dash polished. It felt so good to be driving again, driving a car that was nimble, responsive, assertive. Something that merged design with functionality. And it’s suddenly so compact, no more driving around that Tank of a Taurus with the turning radius of a Mac truck and a profile larger than an SUV. I again have a car that hugs the road rather than crushes it. A car that darts instead of slogs. No more ¼ tanks of gas to get to the city. No more haphazard climate control. Heated seats, ergonomically designed to comfort and support instead of the bench seat. It’s lovely.

Last night it was 39 degrees and I had the windows down, the sunroof open, shouting with joy as my turbo kicked in to catapult me over the Sunol Grade. It was a moment that demanded operatic swelling of voices and a crescendo of orchestral collapse that leaves everyone in the imaginary studio audience that lives in my head standing up, moved by the swell of emotion. It will be included on the tape I send out for my life’s Emmy nominations. It’s taking out ads in Variety that say, “For your consideration“, and “Might we suggest“. I have put over 100 miles on the new engine. But have taken the weight of twice that off my soul.

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Zen and don't cry out loud - 2007-07-29

Zen and the stumbling rocks of fitness - 2007-07-19

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Zen and fasting - 2007-06-20

Zen and hiccups - 2007-06-18

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