I bought a blueberry-plum-bran muffin at a bakery, walking back from going to get some lunch, and it's terrible. It's stale, and flavorless, and terrible. Terrible. It sounded good, but it's not.

But, on the bright side, I did read something terrific while I was eating lunch. I got Brooklyn Boy out of the library last week. It's a play by Donald Margulies about a novelist from Brooklyn whose father is dying and wife is leaving him at the same time as his quasi-autobiographical novel is becoming a bestseller. It's a terrific, terrific piece of writing. Delicate and poignant, and just seems to capture the way people talk and think really nicely. There's nothing forced about it. I really enjoyed reading it. I remember I have a friend who saw the staged version earlier this year -- I was up at school so I couldn't see it -- and liked it. And my mom had a friend who saw it and liked it and I think passed along an article about it for her to give to me but I don't think I ever read it. But, anyway, it's a wonderful little play, and comes across very vividly on the page. Haven't enjoyed reading something as much as this in quite a little while.