Today I saw things that were not of my earth. Not of the rolling hills and predictable colors of granite and grass and deciduous trees that my eyes say are this planet.

Fittingly, I have also lost all sense of time. I’m sitting in a motel outside of the Grand Canyon (tomorrow’s adventure), and I got an email that said Happy St. Patty’s Day. “Is it the 17th?” I think. Then I check my computer clock/calendar. It’s telling me it’s Friday, March 18, 2005.

I thought it was Wednesday, March 16. But, now, I don’t know.

A rising sense of panic, and I grab the USA Today out of my backpack, which I remember throwing there this morning. But, was it this morning? How the fuck should I know. By now, I’m on road time. I am gathering no moss. I removed my watch, like Peter Fonday in Easy Rider and left conventional society. My life isn’t measured neatly in sweeps of analog hands or sheaves of calendar pages.

Seriously, I’m not sure what day it is. This statement is not melodrama, it is a disconcerting, kind of, uneasy, sort of, truth. It doesn’t really matter, but somehow it does.

My Palm Pilot and newspaper say Wednesday, so I will believe in that. I will hold Wednesday dear, until I know otherwise or more dearly if I am right.

(I’m hitting update on this post, because it will be my arbiter. Let’s see what date and time WordPress gives me.)