Does anybody really know what time it is?

When Chicago posed their musical question in 1969, they referred to something much bigger, but at our house, when John or anyone else asks, “Does anybody really know what time it is,” it’s meant literally. A few years back (I couldn’t tell you when because time blends together), I started setting our clocks to be fast – and some of them fast by different amounts.

It's 2:43 or 2:45ish p.m. Or is it?

It’s 2:43 or 2:45ish p.m. Or is it?

It was the only thing I could think of to help with our chronic lateness, and it works, for the most part, partly because every time our power goes out, which is pretty frequently (our power sources in this old neighborhood must be historic, too), I reset the clocks a different number of minutes ahead. They usually range between 3 and 8 minutes fast.

That, of course, has its own inherent danger, if you think you have 7 more minutes but really have 4. So we’ve got to take it at face value. For real time, our Comcast box and sleeping iMac, John’s MacBook and our cell phones are the only sources in the house. Even my MacBook clock runs fast – without me setting it forward. Go figure.

My crazy system works pretty well, but today I’ve been a bit disoriented from falling back to sleep this morning and sleeping in until 8:25, something I haven’t done in eons. I needed it desperately, because zombies have been keeping me up late at night for a week now.

WWZAfter seeing the movie, I had to read Max Brooks’ World War Z. The movie’s good, but the book’s a whole different creature. I’ll be through soon. People are waiting in line to borrow it.

The book that kept me awake nights before WWZ is Second Sight by Judith Orloff. Some friends – whom I won’t name to protect their reputations, should they choose to remain anonymous – and I decided to read it for a loose book club. We met Thursday night for our first discussion and mainly got sidetracked by visiting and discussing dreams and other things. 2ndSight

The book is about that and more – developing intuition, interpreting dreams – things that are probably too “wacko” for many people but secretly intrigue many others.

We’ll try to stick to the book more next time.

One last thing for today: Alice Cooper, you need to chill out, dude. You’re the guy who sang “Eighteen” about the joys of being young, so why are you lambasting Mumford & Sons and The Lumineers? This isn’t 1971 and things change. That’s how life works. Some of us old folks love them – and you’re sounding like a cranky old “get off my damn lawn” guy.

Take some advice from your contemporaries in Pink Floyd and leave those kids alone.

The world needs all the joy it can get.

That’s all.

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