It’s no Wyoming I know, but Big Sky Brooklyn at twilight has its pleasures. That slanting light, Edward Hopper light, hitting the red brick and magicking the hour.

On the F train, an older woman all in green (shoes, socks, pants, jacket, hat, hair highlights, and, as another passenger whispered to a friend, watch, all different shades). She had quite the dotty smile.

There’s a new documentary about the conspiracy trial of the “Chicago 7”; actually 8 when you add Bobby Seale, and now, adding the two defense lawyers, The Chicago Ten. I’m looking forward to it. Following Mayor Daley's police riot at the Democratic Convention in 1968 (oh, I bet that made the late WF Buckley excited!), it was one of the great pieces of American political theater. I’ve read Allan Ginsburg’s testimony before, it’s sheer mad genius. Om!