Overwhelmed by lack of time, race of time, speed of time, I retreat into non-thought – merely into Epicurean sensual observations and desires – momentary ephemeral flashes of well being and ill-being. Do I think? After a fashion. Do I put myself in other people’s minds and viscera? No. Not half enough. Do I listen? Yes. Do I create? No. I reproduce. I have no imagination. I am submerged in circling ego. I listen, God knows why. I say I am interested in people. Am I rationalizing? Maybe it’s too uncomfortable to know much of anything.