I'm not dead. Just in hiding. Also, I feel an unshakeable sense of paranoia while writing in the computer lab in the graduate student housing (aka dorm) here at Stanford. Why should I be terrified that someone might come along and see what I'm doing? I don't know. I just am.

News briefs:

Early reports of my roommate's name were scrambled, and somewhat exaggerated. He is not a 12 year old swimmer from Iowa. He is a 2003 graduate of Harvard named Alexander Huff Jordan. Also, he brought a deep frier with him when he moved in.

It took me three days to get my telephone working. Now it works. The ringer is too quiet, and the handset too loud. I talk on the phone with a t-shirt wrapped around the earpiece. Let that be a lesson to those of you cheap enough to buy $8 telephones (me).

Orientation for the history dept starts today in 45 minutes. Move in day was 6 days ago.

I went all the way to Berkeley to get a haircut. It was, by all accounts, worth it.

I have typed all of this while repeatedly twitching and hastily turning to see if anyone is watching.