So. A lot of random unproductive activity today. I got waylaid on my way to the library this afternoon and ended up as a special guest on Celine's college radio show, "Blues Explosion."

And apparently I'd agreed to go see a debate in Oshkosh with the Politician. Factor in dinner beforehand, and I didn't get to the library until about nine tonight.

The debate was hilarious, incidentally. Senator Feingold against Tim Michels, the foredoomed Republican challenger.

First off, a Barnesville novice knows about as much about debating as Michels. I felt sorry for the guy, what with his stilted speeches and bizarre tangents to familiar talking points. I was probably no better back in high school, in all honesty — but I wasn't running for senator.

And (second off?) Michels seemed unintelligent. He seemed to have little understanding of national issues (American farmers are generally not big free trade advocates) or his opponent's often witty rhetoric. I suspect that I might agree with him on one or two issues (read: keeping airport security private), but I wouldn't trust the guy to get anything done in the Senate.

The Politician and I were rolling our eyes and stifling laughter throughout the debate, as it became increasingly clear that Feingold was giving his opponent a sound drubbing. Looking around, I noticed others in the same predicament.

Knowing that the race isn't tight, Feingold was able to loosen up and speak his mind. My favorite jokes: "Sometimes people forget that my first name isn't 'McCain'" and "I went together with Jesse Helms on that bill! There were very few Helms-Feingold bills."

Also, Feingold called something "terrendous."

It was a good time, and now I have fewer qualms about voting for Feingold.

Back at Lawrence, I spent the rest of the night in the library, finishing 1984. It's a good bit of satire, but I'd forgotten how soul-crushing the ending is. Should be interesting to discuss, though.

I need more side-projects like our satire tutorial, or maybe just a better work ethic. I haven't tried to write any fiction for a few months now, and I need to either read or write regularly if I'm to stay sane.

(Getting periodically pissed off at various extroverts and that one really pretentious introvert is unavoidable, but I've found that some r&w at least blunts my frustration.)

Alternately, I can just drink. The Halo drinking game I played with Ben (and failed miserably at, btw) before going to the ORC party yesterday was arguably more fun than the party itself. And relaxing, like the Mario Kart drinking game of yore.

Yes, I could be one of those drinking writers, in the proud tradition of Hemingway, Poe, and newspaper editors everywhere. Waking up hungover, with my mouth full of pity…

Or whatever. It's past my bedtime.