I never thought the pressure to write in this thing would get to me. I guess this is why most people keep their diaries private: to avoid having to impress anybody but themselves. Are other people so much more profound that they can write in a diary all day? Or is it that all diaries are terminally boring? Hmm... This is more of a log, I guess, because it beats writing mass emails. If I were you, the friends and family of mine who ostensibly read this business, I'd prefer not to get unsolicited emails from Donald all the damned time.

Back to diaries, I guess you only hear about the diaries of people who consistently have a lot to say, or are so profoundly bored that they are slowly descending (ascending?) into insanity. Like Antarctic Explorers, or Anne Frank, who was a little of both.

I went and saw Harry Manx last night. For those of you who don't know him (which, unless you're Canadian, is a high probability), he's this blues fellow out of Toronto. He plays one seriously mean guitar. You know how some guitarists are really good at, say, playing solos, and others make the guitar sound like four instruments playing at once? He's in that latter group, like this slidey-blues/indian raga thing. Not to mention that on top of that he actually does play four instruments at once, if you count his voice. He's got the guitar, this floor pedal thing that supplies bass drum sounds when he taps on it, a harmonica, and singin'. He's big in Canada, take that as you will.