To those of you who lament winter�s shorter days: hang in there, baby, Solstice is coming. [Insert picture of distressed kitten clinging to a denuded tree limb.] I like the short days, I like coming home in the dark, and seeing the lights strung up on the masts of the boats in the marina. Their stark triangles intersect one another, creating a luminous, angular mosaic that makes me think of the scene in �A Charlie Brown Christmas� where Charlie and Linus go to the tree lot. I enjoy the simple geometry of the display, and dislike the odd boat loaded with illuminated palm trees and flashing icicle lights of all colors that obscure the clean lines of the vessel and create the illusion of a glowing lump on the water. (Which was, oddly enough, Deep Purple�s follow-up hit, and ok, that is stupid and not funny.)

I�m focusing on the happiness I derive from the marina at this time of year because all day long, Melvin has been stopping at my desk to deliver long, impassioned speeches against the season, or against society, or against any number of things. These speeches, which are difficult to interrupt, generally spiral on for ten minutes or so, and conclude with a point along the lines of, say, that a thing called racism exists.

I like Melvin a lot�he is a kind person, very knowledgeable about any number of subjects, and with a black sense of humor I enjoy. I am not sure how to tell him that I understand that racism exists, or that I am not personally homophobic. I understand that housing prices here are viciously high, but I�m unable to work up any outrage over it. It would be like working up outrage over the temperature of the air: I take it for granted. I want to post a sign beside my desk, reading, �I hold these truths to be self-evident� and point to it every time he goes off.

Lately, he is fixated on the idea that �soon,� as he puts it, computers will be able to read our thoughts and communicate those thoughts against our will to others. This idea worries him a lot. �I mean, supposing I�m a victim of racial profiling,� he starts out, pacing, eyes wide, �and they haul me into the police station�if that police officer can read my thoughts, I�m in some deep doo-doo!� This sort of vigorous pessimism is one of Melvin�s favorite activities, and it can be interesting to watch, although his unwillingness to consider public comment can prove taxing. To point out, for example, that his concern is contingent upon a theoretical unfair arrest in the future, would be considered by Melvin to be na�ve and insensitive. Again, there are some days when some of his assertions strike me as accurate. And further still, he just suggested that, since our boss is out, I get the band together and start the party. The computer that can read my mind is still under development, but I think Melvin would be pleased by what I thought about that idea, and about him, for suggesting it.

Star of the day. . .Peppermint Patty