You know those segments on the Today show, where somebody takes the host through a long table laden with cute new electronic products, or tasty low-carb dishes or whatnot, and there's never enough time to make it the whole length of the table, and the presenter-person talks faster and faster and skips over some things and the host says we have to go to commercial, we'll have to invite you back another time? Well, that's what life is like to me these days. I stagger through my days, leaving everything half-finished and flawed as the superimposed calendar pages flip by, like in a thirties movie. I want to go back and finish things, do them right, or in some cases avoid even beginning them, but that's against the rules. There's no going back in life. There's only the headlong propulsion down a rock-strewn hill that's just too steep and you're lucky just to keep your feet under you. Wouldn't it be great if we could go back a week or two and say: erase that, wipe the slate clean, let's do a do-over, and take whatever time is required to do it right. And things would get finished, and mistakes would be unmade, and people wouldn't die, and everybody would be happy. But that's not how it works. If my brain hadn't stopped maturing beyond the age of fourteen, I would appreciate the necessary enrichment of experiencing the pain of every last goddam sharp pointy rock in the headlong tumble down the rabbit hole of life, but it did, and I don't.