Dear Josh,

Lately at my day job I've been vacillating between two equally disturbing states of mind.

Sometimes I feel like my office doesn't really exist -- that, "Matrix"-like, I am working in a world that has been computer-generated by robots that have complete disdain for me and my fellow humans.

But at other times (and this is perhaps even more disturbing) I feel as though I don't exist. I mean, the desk and chair seem so much more real than I do. And other people don't even seem to notice me -- whereas, at least they would acknowledge the existence of, say, a window.

Can you recommend any techniques for ridding myself of these annoying sensations?

Bertram L. Hodel
Somerville, MA

Dear Bert,

I don't usually urge people to develop a fetish, but in your case I feel moved to do just that. So may I suggest that you develop a manageable fixation on a particular object at your workstation (in "Haiku Tunnel," for example, my character has an unusually emotional attachment to his envelope-moistener). That way, whenever you feel that either you or your office environment is fading away, you can just reach for (say) your three-hole punch; turn it over a few times; consider its heft, its cool metallic palpability. ... Before too long, you will find that all your disturbing thoughts are evaporating -- and at the same time you will realize, with an ecstatic rush, that the beautiful everyday world of staplers and Uni-Ball Micro pens holds the possibility for much more enjoyment than anything in your ethereal fantasy life.

Warmly,
Josh

P.S.: If the above doesn't work for you, try wearing a garter belt under your slacks.