On the election: I don’t know, I’m just not thinking about it. Jon Stewart said it best: don’t you miss election fraud? This time we just lost. The next issues of Newsweek and the Economist will both feature a smug-looking George W. Bush, the bastard, on their respective covers, and I don’t think I’ll be watching the news for a couple weeks. Sorryeverybody.com involves solemn, funny-looking people feeling accountable to the universe for George W. Bush. I must be more or less safe — I’m middle-class and straight and not pregnant, a soldier, an Iraqi, etc — but it feels like things are about to go to hell in a handbasket for everyone else.

I’m engaging in some 2AM narcissism as an act of purposeless rebellion as well as for its own sake; I’m digging out the old archives from my 2001-2002 weblog on Pitas. Reading entries from 9th grade, I find myself embarassed and disillusioned. I have been clinging to this image of myself In My Youth as this precocious, charming child, and apparently I was an incoherent cretin in 2001. My prose was awkward and weird and, most unforgivable, plagued with little text faces (like so: ¬¬; ). I was such a 13-year-old. Worst of all, this entire ordeal will inevitably repeat itself over three- or four-year intervals until I plateau.

God, I talked about myself in third person. Why would I do that? I still do that, don’t I.