This morning I drove to some old, cramped, cluttered homes in Roxbury and Dorchester in order to configure, etc., computers housed within them. These are entrepreneurial households -- outposts on a wide, gray, low-income landscape. A few manage little more than to cozy-up an abandoned cave, while others are packed to the rafters with scrapbooky evidence of family life.
     They're all creaky with peeling wallpaper, and they're all playgrounds to little children whose parents are off at work each day.

     It was nice to be in these places, but by the afternoon I felt a little low.

     Tonight, I walked through Quincy Market and Government Center among a few thousand young, bar-going baseball fans, after watching the game at "the International."

     It's not really my scene; but with all the cheering, by 12:15 I felt pretty good. I slapped three strangers five, which is the kind of thing that was happening. Then I rode a bus home.


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