I walked through the World Trade Center subway station this morning. It felt like I was walking through a cathedral. One side was open to the hole where the towers once stood and a big, wide stairway climbed into the daylight opposite. The concourse was full of commuters, but the only sounds were feet on pavement. It felt reverent like being in church.

I tell you, this pneumonia stuff is serious. Instantly I’m an old man — walking slow, using the escalator instead of the stairs and no riding the bike.

Stuff happens slowly. I’m finiding myself actually enjoying the new pace. Leaves more time for looking and thinking.

This pretty well sums up what the whole hipster-on-a-fix trend is all about. Lovely. Go get a job.

Looks like I’m the big winner. Say it with me… bacterial pneumonia. Very good!

Yesterday I won a nifty pack of fancy antibiotics and a trip to Jefferson for chest x-rays. Tomorrow I get to see what the doc says about my pictures. I sure would like not to feel like an emphysema victim sometime soon.

Oh, and we really need to do something about health care in America. Watching the various departments I dealt with communicate with each other was like watching boy manatees butt-fuck each other on dry land. Slow, sloppy and lots of grunting and wheezing.