Life has been confusing of late, but not in a bad way, just lots of stuff going on around me. And what befuddles me further is that I have too many books lying around waiting to be read. I've had to weed out and set my priorities. My biggest problem is that I don't have a novel that I'm eager to dive into, and that's what I read at the gym and right before I fall asleep (and at other times).

I've been distracted by one of my birthday presents, an MP3 player--a Creative Zen Micro, which works like a charm, though its touch panel is a bit too sensitive. I've learned how to use it, but I don't have head phones that are stable enough for the gym. And I need an arm strap or something. That will come. My free one month with Napster has been terrific so far; they have improved their service tremendously over the past year, which is undoubtedly due to the competition with iTunes.

All right, already! Book News.
The library called the day before yesterday to say that Jonathan Safran Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close was in. I delved into it in an odd fashion, reading a page here, two pages there. I would have started with page one and continued reading, but the style is adding to the confusion in my orbit this week. I will make one observation, and so far it's putting me off. The narrator is a nine-year-old boy who has witnessed the 9/11 disaster. Problem is, he has alot to say, but many times I come across modes of expression, and complex, analytical ideas that no nine-year-old would have. Now I realize Oskar is a very special child, but still, even a genius would not think like a twenty-five-year old man. But I have just committed the unforgivable sin of passing judgment before reading the book. Never, never, the little voice inside says.