This is how I spend my mornings before work. I wake up around nine or so and check my e-mail, Friendster, and Livejournal while eating a bowl of Raisin Bran. Then in varying order, I will either take a shower and then read a book for an hour or so, or lie back in bed and read for an hour or so, then shower. Then I will make a pot of coffee and drink it while reading gossip blogs and the book reviews in the NY Times, and those linked in Bookslut and Maud Newton. Then I will usually wash my face, brush my teeth, and run to work, always late, even though I don't have to be there until one thirty and there is all this wasted time in the morning. Could you imagine the things that I could do in the morning if I wanted to, if I could get off the internet? But would I want to do these things? Is my routine so horrible now? Is it a problem that while reading a review of Bergdoff Blondes, I recognize the byline of Choire Sicha as the person who writes Gawker and think that it is too appropriate that he should be writing this review of a trashy beach read, a review that seems to be really informal for the Sunday Book Review? I mean, is this wrong, that I think this and know these things and spend my mornings this way? Is it that much differnt than spending the morning lounging on the couch reading all the different sections of the paper? I don't have a paper subscription. Should I be out in this beautiful spring weather doing things? I have my windows open and the sun is on me, on the walls of my living room, the wind will occasionally blow in, bringing it with indistinguisable scents that even though they cannot be named, bring me an outrageous sense of joy, and of familiarity, wifting memories I couldn't even begin to verbalize to you, or to myself for that matter.