It might be my imagination, but I always sense a collective longing for 'earthiness' around this time. Co-workers discuss apple picking, natural fabrics, and country weekends. Why bring this all up? Because this fall, as we inch closer to the milennium, the religious war between tecnhnophobe and technophile has taken on a higher pitch, and I can't help but think this is just the calm before the storm. The once-seasonal longing for a simpler, rustic life has become a unceasing call to arms. Increasingly, we are being asked to choose sides: Are you in the 'revolution' or out?

With all the news ink being spilled on technology, I feel like I've done more thinking about my relationship with my computer than that with any actual person in my life. I had just finished reading the New York Times Magazine's special issue, "What Is Technology Doing To Us?" when the New Yorker plunked down 200-plus pages of speculation about "What's Next?" Fast Company wants me to be a cyberpreneur and Wired teases me with its insider-ish "Wired/Tired" feature every month. In his new book, "Interface Culture," Feed's Steve Johnson tries to convince me that the computer desktop will become the most sophisticated and compelling narrative of the 21st century. David Shenk tells me I suffer from information overload, a literal "Data Smog." Bill Gates is pointing the road ahead, and I still don't know where I stand. What I do know is that I turn my computer off at the end of the day, but I cannot escape the pervasive hand-wringing over the influence of technology, a distinctly late-20th century angst currently permeating our culture. At the end of the day, the decision to use a subway token or a Metrocard has suddenly become a fundamental question of identity.

This is silly, of course. And yes, I am aware that I am just adding to the problem. So I'm calling a personal time out. I am going to stop worrying about the time I spend surfing the Web, watching TV alone, talking on the phone, playing video games, and listening to the radio. I find myself in the strange position of longing for simpler technological times, when Atari was what you played for a few hours before going outside. When the answering machines were exotic. When using the V-hold on your TV set required a certain amount of talent. Am I alone with this disease? OK. Enough. End of conversation. I will no longer write, discuss, or think about technology. I will just use my machines in a perfectly neutral state of mind. The Zen of Machines... hmmm... there might be a book there.