"this entry is not about ..."
August 16, 2001, 9:57 p.m.

This entry is not about the tuna fish sandwich I had for lunch today made by an impatient server at the deli in the tunnel downtown, who never once looked me in the eye.

This entry is not about the guy at work who asked me for twenty bucks till payday who said he needed it because he forgot his ATM card at home.

This entry is not about the rage displayed by the bum who shouted incoherently into my face when I passed him by on the street.

This entry is not about the buffet I've become for the vast onslaught of mosquitos that seem to be always singing in my ear.

This entry is not about all the many hidden potholes in the streets of Houston tearing up my car and making me wish I had an off-road vehicle to traverse that rugged course.

This entry is not about the pleasure I had while reading a book of Antler's poetry behind the closed door and sanctity of my bathroom.

This entry is not about the large video screens similar to the one in Times Square which the city said today they're going to add to our local landmarks to make Houston seem more "Las Vegas"-like.

This entry is not about the feeling of relief and comfort I felt when shedding my shoes and peeling my damp and haggard work clothes off of me just as soon as I got home.

This entry is not about the conversation with my Mom when she shared excitedly about the recent re-writes to her novel while I sat eating leftover spaghetti from a bowl.

This entry is not about anything much at all.