I don't know that I've ever felt as close to a literary character than I do to the protagonists of Haruki Murakami novels. I've only read Dance Dance Dance, and I'm working on The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, but something about the narrators strikes a very deep chord with me. Sometimes I very much feel that I'm in the same tiny subclass of humanity that they are.

I don't know what to make of nights like this, slightly shiftless, alienated, thoughtful, aiming-for-something, Murakami nights. I'd wish that I had someone to share them with, but then they wouldn't be what they are. Unless I was at a party, where whole nights like this get condensed into the space of minutes, or maybe an hour. Those moments when you're alone and are ambivalent to the presence of everyone else, yet are incredibly aware of the world.

I take back my statement about sharing moments like this at parties; I wouldn't want to. It isn't something to discuss with others. Much of life shouldn't be shared; I suspect that my belief in this statement (which admittedly wavers) is part of the reason that I'm not a particularly social creature.

Now playing: (left) tree frogs
(right) "Girls" by Death In Vegas. Over and over and over and over and over.