I keep thinking I should turn on the TV and watch Bush making his speech. Then the impulse passes. My sense of the coverage of the convention, though, has persuaded me that it's coming off as a highly partisan, polarizing affair. Not as bad as when Pat Buchanan set the tone for the 1992 convention, but close. And the fact that more voters keep picking the economy as their biggest concern ought to have the Republicans very concerned. Because they have absolutely nothing plausible to say about their handling of the economy. Nada. Zilch.

Bogie is going in for surgery tomorrow—an excisional biopsy. Emily and I are worried but hopeful. It's so hard to send a dog in for surgery, because you can't explain what's happening to him. And he's going to have to be there overnight. Poor little guy. He seems happy and healthy today, though. My dad and sister were here visiting and we went for a ramble along Six Mile Creek. My dad went home this afternoon but Vanessa is with us until tomorrow, when she's driving up to Vancouver for a wedding. Anyway, all this has kept me pretty distracted from poetry and/or dissertation stuff. Though I was very, very excited by what I read of Andrew Joron's Fathom Wednesday morning. Buy this book immediately. I'll explain why in a day or two.