It’s hard to live in the moment. In the moment, the glare of the screen hurts the eyes, and the sunlight bouncing from the wall as well. The edge of the chair hurts in the back of the legs, the belly hangs tight over the waistband, and the lower back aches as the body slouches into the computer.

I think it would be nice if people quit telling me to live in the moment. The occasional pleasure I take in life tends to derive from a tangential impression that a span of time has proven to be benign. A stretch of rough road may have a beautiful view; the path through thorny weeds may be freshly paved. There’s pleasure in either, over a few miles. As for true happiness, we tickle it with our metaphysics.

— my writing journal, 4/1/03