It turns out that digital entertainment can mean more than simply a moistened finger. Today I walked all over, listening to The Wrens. Everything I saw was made better and more interesting thanks to The Wrens. Visual poignancies abounded, glamour in every doorway, faces made significant. On Belmont I saw someone in a cafe reading a book I really like, Coleman Dowell's Too Much Flesh and Jabez. What are the odds of seeing someone reading a Coleman Dowell novel? That and The Wrens and the springlike weather made an unfamiliar emotion course through me, akin to a tingle but on the inside, like my cells were doing the Lindy Hop. I wonder what it was. My usual plodding gait rallied into something resembling a stroll, to the point where I could discern the intricate and graceful choreography of the human stride rather than simply a vague sensation of floating mass pointlessly advancing. Belmont is full of coffee houses, cafes, bars. Any time I want I could walk right over there, five minutes after leaving my house I could be ordering a mocha and sitting at a little round table alone trying not to look uncomfortable. Then someone might glimpse the Coleman Dowell book I'm reading and think what a wonderful thing that is to see, on a day like today when everyone looks fascinating and not the least bit ill at ease, not at all. Of course I'd be too self-conscious to actually be reading it but they wouldn't know that.