People who shake their heads like what’s that? Just me. You must be dressed like that for Halloween. Why I hate Halloween: the right people dressed like the wrong people. This really happened: I walked by a house where people were dropping piles of old books out of a 3rd story window, then loading them into a Department of Public Works truck. Pages fluttering in the wind. A memoir of Robert F. Kennedy, by someone else. A History of Arithmetic. Why is it so often the songs that tormented me, that became emblematic in my hatred of them, why is it these songs that come back to me, years later, sometimes for weeks, and then when I think about the lyrics and I think wait, those lyrics actually match, maybe they’ve always matched, and should I hate them more for this or less. A Total Eclipse of the Heart. There are very few things in New York that don’t feel fake, but Central Park on a Sunday afternoon is definitely one of the fakest. Suddenly I have an idea: maybe everything that ends in pain should be changed to -pagne. Paper bag inside plastic bag. At the health food store.