When I lived in NYC _and_ when I had realized it was the "only place to be" I noticed that non-new york new yorkers, that is emmigrants or immigrants yet-to-be, were always reading the NYTIMES with a religious devotion. It was as if those outside of the city somehow could really keep apprised of the city and therefore the world by consuming the black ink and off-white page, leaf by leaf.

As a new-yorker in new york proper, I rarely touched the thing. It was as if the city itself was enough, and that reading about it on top of living it would have been some sort of overdose, and self-centered at that. Like a stage-mom searching the tabloids for news on her daughter, it would consume me, instead - the wide review of life as I knew it.

Of course, that left me well and good ignorant about many things. But I always had the comfort that paper was there when I needed it. Now - on a Sunday morning, that paper will only ever be delivered onto my laptop screen as long as I live in this town of 16,000, Donna, Texas. I believe I can get the paper in my box, if I wait a day or two.

So I am up, it is a warm beautiful sunday morning, and I've made my coffee and now I'll click through the Times, page by virtual page.