unwisely have i commited myself to getting addy a signed copy of murakami - either norwegian wood or wind-up bird chronicle, she instructs me. this will be, i suspect, less easy than it seems. he is known to dislike book signings, and i am not sure i'll ever get near enough to him on campus to speak to him, but she entreats me to thicken my epidermis for her sake and play the besotted groupie. this reminds me, von promised he'd go susan-cooper-stalking with me last november and he never did so. dilatory wretch! she cries, stamping her foot.