When did I get boring?

What is going on here? I have no fun stories. The weekend was bland. I sat alone on my roof for almost an hour saturday night, drinking two beers while I looked at the memorial spotlights in Lower Manhattan, looking up and having sort of galactic spaceflight daydreams to myself. (The lights go up really really far; I never saw 'em before.) Sunday, I visited Brooklyn and on the train home missed my stop because I was poring over a Village Voice to ignore the crazy homeless guy who kept telling me I have the height to play basketball and then humming the John Tesh "NBA on NBC" theme to everyone on the train. Maybe I need to start drinking more?