This afternoon in Naro Video I overheard a man say to a woman, "When you say 'exactly', I'm not sure exactly what you mean." This was one of those perfect combinations of words that serendipitously poke my brain in such a way as to cause flowers and rainbows and Sgt-Pepperish things to flow out and remind me vividly of yesteryear, when you could spend an afternoon at the laundromat watching the spin cycle as if you were watching Real Housewives of New Jersey in 3D and THX. Or watching Peter Fonda watching the washing machine that way, I forget. But you get my drift. For those of us of a certain age, there are hidden triggers laying in wait, ready to flash us back. For my own self, it's the glowing inside of Richie Havens's mouth in Woodstock or one of the Firesign Theater guys saying "Why, he's no fun, he fell right over" or eating McDonald's french fries, which will forever cause me to imagine I'm eating human fingers. Which, the first time it happened, didn't bother mel, it was kind of interesting. Didn't bother Mel! That's another trigger, accidentally saying "didn't bother Mel." Triggers abound. Good times. If there's one thing I learned from those days, it's this: if you're in a state such as I've been alluding to, don't go into a White Castle, because you will almost certainly be hungry, and your sense of proportion will have run off the road and be lying in a ditch, moaning. One night in Columbus, Ohio, in 1971, I ordered 34 White Castles. Yep. I shit you not, as Ruben Fletcher would say.