driving isn't as much fun as it used to be. once i was famous for enjoying driving -- under certain conditions: but if i were alone and had no particular time pressure, driving, with the windows down and singing along to ani, ranked up on my favorite passtime list with quoting empire records and buying black t-shirts. no longer. my parents have traded in the car i so loved. now i can't drive without either mulling over the socio-economic-ecological implications of the behemoth, or clutching the wheel of the dinosaur, hoping that if i hold tight enough it'll stay in one piece.

i mention it only because i've done a lot of driving today. to rockville and back, to rockville and back, so naturally nostalgia accompanied both journeys. the second one being to meet tamar at an old hangout, it's not too surprising. in suave pomo fashion, we even did nostalgic things, like peer into every window of the silver diner in an effort to find a recognizable face (once upon a time you couldn't avoid it.) we strolled up and down the pike. we went to the starbucks where the cool kids used to hang out. this time i immediately noticed one of the few girls i dislike and even though tamar is friends with her i exercised my veto and steered us in the opposite direction.

she leaves shortly for israel. like everyone else, she's coming and going, busily planning and worrying and hashing things out and reading horoscopes. all these disappearances and reappearances, with the frequency of traffic lights but none of the logic -- is it any wonder i resort to scrabble?