I'm just wild about Harry.

I meant that as a joke, you see, but now I'm reminded of Harold Obermaier, an old acquaintance from Germany. Harry was in many respects a less cool version of myself. He had Tomb Raider posters all over his wall, spent a lot of time playing/making computer games, and enjoyed soccer like a typical German.

He's also the only German I knew who wore clean, colorful clothes every day and refused to drink. He had a really bad reason, too. I forget what, unless it was "I don't like the taste".

Of every alcoholic drink ever made, no less. This doesn't connect to anything, really.

I've used Harry's excuse before, and while I'm on the subject, I don't know what to say about my drinking, or lack thereof. I don't drink anymore, but there was a period when I did. I couldn't tell you what got me to switch back to soberdom, unless it was the guilt of getting a speeding ticket or the realization that drinking with The Percussionists wasn't as fun as it sounds.

I could think of plenty of reasons, all equally plausible, and now that I'm back to Dan Classic, I'm sure I'll continue to jusitfy myself in more creative ways, as they say. So enough of that. I think there's a problem with concentrating on what I don't do, in my angsty teenage search for identity.

I finished Traumnovelle for German class today. The story is all about the things we have to keep from each other, as it turns out. The necessity of secrets. It seems like the half-mysterious stuff that I associate with Jenna, of all people. Yeah, where'd that come from? I mean no offense, whatever it is I mean.

So class was good; there was no American Writers because the paper on Walden, which I started today, was due this afternoon. I ran into Megan on the way to the library, which led to lunch with her and Jamie; dinner with Ann, Jonas, and the aforementioned; and some odd-but-interesting conversations, none of them about shoes.

After dinner I listened to every Eels song I know, read the news, and talked to The D.J. He and Nick-From-Next-Door are living in Backstage House next year, and we've cooked up an excellent running gag about the wacky people who live in Backstage House.

Anything goes in Backstage House! Oh, it's hilarious in person.

Well, anyways, tomorrow should be just as busy, so I've got to sleep. Later.