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2002-01-25 4:11 p.m.

I get so excited when my odometer reaches some perfect or aesthetically pleasing number. I have been this way as long as I can remember. When I was very young, I would keep my eye on the odometer of my mom's brown Honda Civic as she drove me across town to private school, just in case I was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of 11,111 or 111,111 or 123,321. I think that I have always considered these to be tiny, micro–mini–miracles—just like rainbows, shooting stars, and other winks from the universe, heaven or wherever they are from. To me they are signs that some order exists in the world—hints to the existence of some algorithm or rule or unifying theory which might simplify my universe. Tiny white numbers lined up in a perfect row. 123,456. Today when it happened, I was ready.


Thanks, 123,456.




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