I was re-watching it 'cause the first time I saw it I was also scanning headlines on Wired News and listening to Cat Power and so somehow must have missed the transition from where they're all happy and in love to him driving around crying.

I'm also following the game online using Yahoo's pitch-by-pitch summary page2 which updates whenever you reload it (or automatically every 30 or 60 seconds, if you don't mind being manipulated by someone else's idea of time).

Following a game online, it turns out (if you do the math), is much better than going to or watching the game itself, because you get the pure numbers that the mind craves without all the senseless filler of men hitting, throwing, and chasing balls around.

So I can take a tiny fraction of the time and energy this saves3 and use it to continually track, in another window from the one I'm tracking the game in, the many hundreds of UPS shipments I've got coming from Amazon, HomeExplosives.com and DrugParaphernalia.org.

Also, while I'm re-watching the first 15 minutes of eternal sunshine of the spotless mind and downloading Lush and Blonde Redhead mp3s and following the game on Yahoo and tracking all my packages, I am writing this piece about it that you are reading now -- or have maybe already stopped reading, now that you realize it's not gonna be about heavy philosophical issues which affect all people though they don't know it, and instead is gonna be just some long what-I-had-for-breakfast ramble masquerading as a searing critique of multitasking and its profound psychological effects on the young -- as well as a startling behind-the-scenes exposé of all the things humans most fear being and, despite this, ALWAYS already ARE -- for eternity.

Anyway, it turns out, after watching more or less the first 15 minutes of eternal sunshine etc., that there IS NO transition from when they're all happy and they come back from the beach to when he's driving around crying -- except that's where the credits start -- all of which I'd noticed the first time so I didn't really even need to waste my fucking time re-watching it now, now did I.

NO! And therefore it's a damn good thing I was also downloading some Lush and Blonde Redhead mp3s (on a 2-week/50 mp3 free trial basis) and writing this piece, (and also reading mail list postings re: an "intellectual" pop star's recent ostensibly insufficiently-noted death), otherwise my existence for those 15 minutes would have been

more than enough unjustified

to more than have warranted considering suicide.

Notes

1. Plus or Minus CSPAN1 and CSPAN2

2. ESPN.com does it too, but Yahoo is faster and cleaner so fuck ESPN and -- while you're at it -- fuck FSN2 too.

3. Time and energy that would have gone to processing the individual movement of players, muscle by muscle, in the complex chain of instantaneous reflex by each in response to the most pedantic Newtonian behaviors of a small object. For 2 or 3 or 4 fucking hours!

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