took a long drive this evening to try to escape the paradoxical combination of both loneliness and bitter disdain for the general populace.*  it didn’t work. strange day this is, anyway. i spent five hours and six cups of coffee reading jane eyre, and i’ve concluded that mr. rochester is an ass. but at least the book’s becoming a bit more interesting, 300 pages in.

whatever you do, do not see what lies beneath. it’s just completely laughable and unbelievable and all the -ible -able you can imagine. as my creative writing professor said, a surprise ending is worthless unless it’s made completely obvious throughout (· la the sixth sense), so that when it’s revealed, the viewer/reader goes, “right! brilliant! why didn’t i see that coming?” anyway, what lies beneath didn’t work. cheap, cheap melodrama designed to make people jump in their seats, but lacking any sort of merit beyond the jump factor. also, it was gross. adam had to tell me what happened in the last ten minutes because i couldn’t watch.

but we did catch the last ten minutes of almost famous, and i got to hear my new favorite cameron crowe-ism again. philip seymour hoffman says, “the only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you’re being uncool.” it’s not my very favorite crowe-ism; that distinction still belongs to “i don’t want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. as a career, i don’t want to do that.” but this new one is nice, too.

i was going to do this, but i don’t know how much i want to put a day in my life on the web at this point.

*oh, of course, i don’t mean you.  you are so money!