Ken­neth, what is the frequency?”

We can nev­er know the answer to these things. It is not that these ques­tions lack mer­it: they sim­ply lack sense. Punch me in the face all you want, I can still nev­er give you a cred­i­ble response to such queries.

I went swim­ming in the Tyrrhen­ian Sea once. I was total­ly drunk, total­ly naked, and total­ly alone. I was far out from shore, so far I could bare­ly see the lights of San Luci­do, and even then only inter­mit­tent­ly, as I bobbed up and down with the waves. It was a calm night, balmy and mild, the heat of the day dis­si­pat­ed, though not in the same way I was.

I got turned around some­how (no won­der, real­ly), and a fish­er­man pulled me out in the wee hours, a bit hos­tile at the extra weight, demand­ing what I was doing so far out, so far over my head. I had no idea what to tell him. Exhaust­ed, I just laughed until he punched me.

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