Dear old dismal Austin on a Saturday

The trees will bend
The cities wash away
The city on a river
There is a girl without a dream

Is it too willfully eccentric to sit in my back yard in a lawn chair wearing an LSU baseball cap reading economics while it's raining? Golly I hope my meds arrive soon. The online pharmacy left me a message to call them back, but I couldn't be bothered with writing down the number they left, or with saving the message.

Oh, man, snickerdoodle cookies are so much better than the description would have you believe! I'm so glad I live with a cook.

Now I hate MySpace. I am on it, and I got my brother on it, but I hate it. I'm thinking the only thing that will salvage the mission, for me anyway, is if I get a musician account myself and use it as inspiration to record 4 good songs: a girl and her accordion. Or, a girl and her 5 gummy guitar strings. Or, a girl and her snickerdoodles (this will be more of a John Cage-esque piece, which involves the sounds of crunching and dunking).

I was looking around MySpace earlier, and, like Friendster, I can't tell if I'm impressed or horrified by the people who have 200+ friends. Cause, impressive: that they even know 200 people. But unimpressive: the 200 people they know are on MySpace or Friendster. Okay, impressive, since if they know 200 people on these things, they must (hopefully) know even more people in the real world. But unimpressive: they must spend hours a week on MySpace or Friendster adding friends and writing comments like "UR kewl" to each other. But it was interesting to look up former classmates and things. I really didn't think it would be, but it kind of was.

• So. Central Rain (my favorite REM song, but I just found a cover by a favorite-ish band, Hem, too, and can't stop listening to it. It's my, siiigh, MySpace song if you'd like to hear.)