I went bowling tonight. I've been on the lanes one other time here in SF. Before that it was once in a while in Boston, and then a few times back in the old West Hartford days. For me, bowling is like billiards. Pool. I have twenty minutes of brilliance every day for either one of them. Twenty minutes that I might or might not be playing. Last Tuesday at about 11am, I could feel the cueball precision passing through my body. But there was nothing I could do about it right then besides try to do my best to not nod off before lunch.

Okay, I had a whole other thing going about the bowling/Lebowski thing. But here's the deal. Here's all I want from you. Just go to this page and then look to the left side, under the heading "Who Am I?" There are four places to click. Click on each of them, and then create for yourself a magnificent Dude-a-rino chorus of gloriousness. It will make you laugh. And don't stop there. That page is a gold mine and there is so much more.

There was spin on the ball and hope in the thunderous air. Scores went back and forth and the borrowed shoes sweated beneath my unsocked soles. I had forgotten my socks in the truck of Malbecky. But still, despite sweat, I scored on the frames in the second game that I knew I needed to hit, to win.

I didn't win, but then again, we all did, 'cause it was our friend's twenty-seventh birthday. As of tonight she starts the spin around star that keeps our planet close and warm.