Journal fatigue has set in, I feel doubt, like I have Nothing to Say (worse: I Can't Write! and worst of all: I'm boring) I'm having mild anguish about the whole project: should it have some therapeutic purpose, or is it just a writing exercise, or even a desperate grab at attention?

Called up my Syrian chum Aiman back east, where he's working on a Y2K project for the State Department now. My Islamic confusion is cleared up some, but even he couldn't answer my question: What's inside the Kaaba? We worked together just after I moved back to DC in the winter of 1994. Our co-workers were a bunch of people who collectively displayed much more than the usual amount of annoying mannerisms, twitchy tics, and unpleasant behaviors. Aiman's ever-calm, friendly and patient manner provided my anodyne during those early months.

G is the first to respond with his answers to the quiz. His #10 was "From Salt Lake City, Utah to Washington, DC is about 3306 kilometers".

Listening to a Sinatra tape, I'm just encountering "New York, New York" for the first time since he shuffled on - and I'm laughing, because I remember how I myself burst into this song as I rode in Susan B's car across the Brooklyn Bridge in late 1994. She's an old friend from college; and has since moved upstate, but for many years that was her home. Later that night we goofed around the base of the bridge's east tower. The next day I flew to Zurich, for two weeks of fun (Heidelberg - Amsterdam - Bremen - Berlin - Leipzig - Ulm - Lake Constance - Zurich). The ticket was free, cashed-in frequent-flyer miles; this was my first time back to Europe in ten years, and it was great to be back.