I wanted this entry to be elegant. I wanted it to look good on the page, with nice margins and evenly-sized paragraphs.

Unfortunately, I had no body text. I guess I really don�t have a whole lot to say right now.

So I tried to think of something funny: maybe a list. Lists are funny. I�ve written funny lists; all of them rejected by McSweeney�s.

No, not a list. Maybe a good riddance to "Friends." No, too easy. (But it is hilarious that Ryan Adams has closed his site "until further notice ... out of respect for Joey, Chandler, Monica, Ross, Rachel, and Phoebe.")

Or maybe I could do some pseudo-reflective bullshit musings about being on the train this morning and listening to "Things Behind The Sun" by Nick Drake and how the softness of the music was juxtaposed against the hustle and bustle of the morning rush hour, blah blah blah. That�s, like, totally gay.

Or how about the weird twist on the Heisenberg principle that, as soon as I start reading a new blog of Ransom�s, he stops updating it.

Maybe book notes, like how I finally put down The Gold Bug Variations after 300 pages because the narrator's voice was insufferable and Richard Powers is too enamored of overwrought metaphors and too-clever puns and florid language to make his characters or their speech believable ("Who talks like this?" I found myself muttering, a lot), which is too bad, because the scientific aspects of the novel were interesting enough. So I finally picked up Filth by Irvine Welsh, on extended loan from Neil, and discovered an inscription in the front from Rita when she gave it to him six years ago.

And then there�s my girlfriend�s hilarious drunk-dial voicemail, which I�d share here if I didn�t think that such indiscretion on my part might cause her to not be my girlfriend anymore.

Or how about today�s word from AWAD, which is passive-agressive, and which I think many people, including myself, sometimes use incorrectly.

Or how about my new addiction to Luigi�s Mansion for GameCube: "Damn you, Jason," I cursed last night, throwing down the controller and going to the fridge for another Blue Moon, "and your video-game-system-buying ways!"

Or the lawyer across the hall from Amsterdam, and occasionally her Dutch friend who also works in the firm comes by her office and they chat in a language I can�t understand. They think they�re so great, speaking their native language, just flaunting it, just rubbing my nose in the fact that I don�t know Dutch, just making me rue even more the daily-rued rueful fact that I never learned a second language, and rue it to this day.

But I guess by discussing these ideas out there I sort of did end up incorporating them all. So meta.

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