Sat longer than usual at the river this morning because the sun was about to break through thin clouds and I haven't seen the sun out there for days and days. The four perfect trees down by the pointed tent have gone from green to yellow to mustard-brown and are now losing their leaves, revealing their skeletal branch structure. The leaves are fast disappearing from the one remaining wooded hillside in this part of the Jersey riverbank, too, and there turn out to be more buildings over there than I knew about.

I'm thinking a little more about skeletons than usual because I smashed up my finger playing basketball and now it's in a splint. I'm not sure whether it's a big deal or not -- could be a tendon, could just be a jam -- and it doesn't hurt very much as long as it doesn't move but boy is it annoying. Especially this typing thing, which after all is what I do. Not that I can't find the keys with the other nine fingers, but I realize I'm having to think consciously about something I usually just do, sort of like when you rent a car in a country that drives on the other side of the road from yours. It's a low-level constant irritation. Nuts.