Fortunately, these are usually temporary inconveniences. But what happens when someone who has grown accustomed to surfing the information highway is placed in a situation where he must go cold turkey for a month or more?

I have been away from the “electronic world” since the beginning of September, and I am still coming to terms with my predicament. To be fair, I still have e-mail, but only on a limited basis. I work off-line and I send and receive e-mail only once each evening, if that. No more instant repartee with friends and colleagues around the world. No more instant venting.

Worse still, I have almost no time to wander from one Web page to the next. If I absolutely need something that I can’t get in any other way then I might endure those excessive long distance charges to get on the Net, but no surfing is allowed. The very idea of following a thread is now strictly prohibited. Instantly cross-checking a piece of information is impossible. My world has suddenly collapsed. I have gone from global to local and it’s driving me mad.

Most frustrating is receiving an e-mail with a link included, particularly when someone describes the great article that appeared in today’s Boise Register that reveals all the secrets of the meaning of life or some other mundane insight. For those of you without off-line experience, be forewarned that these links — and the essential information they promise to impart — are useless without a connection.

Prior to this experience (forced upon me because of extended travel), I was someone who read a raft of newspapers everyday with a click of the mouse. I had become addicted to certain columnists around the nation and around the world. I devoured “opinion columns’ like they were the finest chocolates. (Maureen, where are you now that I really need you?) How can I know what’s really happening if I can’t read accounts from a dozen different publications?

Each day when I arrived at my office the routine was the same: Turn on the computer, open e-mail, connect to the Internet. For the rest of the day, either e-mail or a Web page was on the screen. I was totally and constantly absorbed.

Worst of all is the total absence of ESPN.com — the site that appeared each time I opened up Microsoft Explorer. Seeing it each day was my assurance that all was right with the world. How can I live without such essential knowledge as the 3rd inning score of the Yankees game? Or Michael Jordan’s latest age-defying feat since returning to the NBA?

As I describe this pathetic state of being I am sure there are those who will say, What about newspapers? What about television news? How about NPR?

Let me tell you something horrifying: When I am watching the television news and have not had my daily online experiences, I am forced to pay attention. In the Net world, which I previously inhabited, I could just have the TV on and then sort of half-listen and occasionally look up at the tube. I already knew more about most stories than the TV news would report. It made watching television so much easier and more pleasant; watching without actually watching.

Forced to watch — really watch — I have discovered that most of what the reporters are telling us is useless, irrelevant, repetitive and/or mind-numbing. All channels have become the Drivel Channel. I don’t mean to slight the television coverage of the events of Sept. 11 as TV was superb in what it does well: live coverage. This is often stunning and riveting. Unfortunately, when it gets beyond the immediate coverage it gets into trouble. The medium does not lend itself to complexity and nuance; instead, it flattens experience by repetition and over-hype. 

This is compounded by the coming of cable and 24-hour news coverage. The talking heads speak with the same hysterical urgency, whether they are discussing Anthrax or Gary Condit. And indeed, whatever happened to this dominant TV news personality?

(One other tip: Don’t watch the morning network shows. They will destroy any hope you have left in the concept of reason and competence. After a few minutes on the morning watch, Bryant Gumbel begins to sound like Walter Lippman, but of course only in relative terms. That should get your attention.)

The only reassuring part of this experience is to know that newspapers, made of real paper and ink, are still available. I confess it is reassuring to touch a paper and then have to go wash off the newsprint. But this, of course, is not enough to compensate for all the problems of withdrawal that I am wrestling with on a daily basis.

In these days of heroism and sacrifice think of me in my daily struggle. Then send me an e-mail telling me what a pathetic slug I really am. Please!