There was a time, in the thirty minutes after Alpine, when I would have pulled over, because I couldn't see twenty feet in front of me, except that I knew that everyone else was having the same problem, many worse than me, and the only thing for it was to press on ahead of the pace. I can still feel the residue of tension in my neck, the product of both realism and too many viewings of Audrey Rose. Still, there was room for me to remember Kim Diehl on stage at the Warfield on 10/28/89, singing "Into the White" as the strobes blinked and I gripped my last Rolling Rock, teeth digging into my my lower lip. Focus is itself a form of distraction. And the now is increasingly then.