IT’S BEEN A HOT MINUTE, hasn’t it? (Well, actually, 23 days or 33,120 hot minutes.)
I’ve been meaning to write. Truly. But I’ve been walking around in a kind of existential fugue state, if you will. Sort of like how I can drive from New York City to Roxbury, CT, and have absolutely no recollection of how I got there when pulling into the driveway. I call…