Dag, yo. That shuffle feature on the iPod is sweet. In the past half-hour I've hopped from Kanye to Mint Royale to Elton John and I'm now listening to a little Charlie Haden. Vaguely Latin brushes sweeping the skins in my left ear, a bass stumbling and thumping in my right, spare soft piano notes holding it all together in the middle. I've always been more casual about music than most in my peer group, but this little gizmo might make me much more serious and inquisitive about it.

The Swedes have great taste in literature. I'm starting to put together a course on drama for next semester in which I want to emphasize language: language as character or builder of character, and a Pinter play should probably go on the list. I also want a play by the late August Wilson, a little Shakespeare (Much Ado About Nothing or Love's Labour's Lost), maybe some Stoppard or Kushner.

Haven't said anything here about the earthquake and that's not likely to change. Simple horror. This has been an incredible year for disasters; it's tempting to say that the earth is angry at us, and not without justification. Yet the people with power who make decisions with transglobal consequences are never the ones affected by these things. Maybe this will somehow effect change in Kashmir—the spectacle of Indians rushing to the aid of Pakistanis is a moving one—but looking for the silver lining seems ghoulish right now.

My fellow Jews are fasting today, but I am secularly thinking about lunch.