is a place one can find oneself stuck at as one is foced to watch "Bachelor, The Rome Edition" on the boob-tube, as one runs hamster like on a treadmill in a hotel gym at 9.00 pm*, and partakes in a twadry spectacle, a simulacrum of "romantic" love.

*A necessary operation to speed up the few breathing moments between work and sleep for this is when "the essential loneliness of man" can carry out a flanking raid - usually poetry did this job but who has time for that! And yes, Mr. Dana Gioia, poetry doesn't matter much, if not at all in corporate America.