2004-11-13 - 1:21 p.m.

I've been fantasizing a lot lately about my (manuscript form) book. I suppose that means I'm self-centered, etc. Funny, but I never thought of myself that way. But here I am, writing 180 pages about myself. I'm the star, man. At a luncheon for the university I went to the other day, an art history professor asked what I did here and I told him and he said, "You better be interesting." Yes, he's right. I better be.

Re-watched "The Virgin Suicides" last night. Thought I missed something the first time, but no. Not very good. I like very much the yellow California light, but the movie just doesn't do it. It's all about the actors, and the boys weren't very good. I think I said, "You can't adapt novels." Sometimes I feel I'm justified in making sweeping claims like that. Maybe sometimes I'm right. "The Human Stain" was the same way.

Looking after the girlfriend's cat for a few days. He's a cool guy. He sleeps a lot and then runs around like a banshee at night, going for toes moving under blankets. He's a little sniper but he doesn't like to wrestle as much as I do.

My favorite trivia question of late: Who wrote the music for the Charlie Brown specials? Two years ago, on Christmas break, I was at the warehouse and one of the guys there was enjoying a languid night, listening to the Charlie Brown Christmas album over and over. I sat with him, smoking, listening and not saying much. It brings back good memories. Languid.

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