[This is an entry begun on Saturday that I didn�t have a chance to post. If I can rouse myself from my zombie-like post-conference stupor, I will try to post again later.]

A whole hotel room all to myself.

Ahhh.

I spent this morning conferencing and had lunch with a friend and two of his friends. I also ran into a friend of mine in college whom I haven�t seen since she graduated (I don�t think you knew her, rs). I�d heard from a former colleague that she was teaching at the same university where he works. They�re both up for tenure this year. As music majors at a fairly small school, we had a ton of classes together. We were both very intense in our classes in college and very competitive with each other, which, I think, kept us from ever becoming really close, but we�ve always (obviously) had a lot in common. I think we�ve both lost our hard edges and it was really nice to talk to her.

By afternoon, though, I was bushed. I checked in, ran through tomorrow�s presentation a couple of times, and have been playing hooky ever since. Bad Harriet. But I did buy a much needed pair of jeans � I�ve been surviving the last several months on only two pairs of pants.

I love my hotel room. The bed is enormous and very swank. The TV is piped into the bathroom, for convenient listening while soaking in the tub. And the hotel restaurant is a sushi bar, which means that I�ll be dining in on saba maki and miso and tea in my sitting area while admiring my view of the river and pretending I do this all the time.

The Sopranos are apparently staying in the hotel. I wouldn�t know, as I�m the only person in America who�s never seen the show, but rumors are flying. I�ve heard at least three people claim to have ridden in an elevator with one or more cast members. Maybe I�ll go download an episode to see if I recognize anyone. In any case, I love the idea of a bunch of ersatz mobsters cohabitating with music geeks.

We�re being buzzed by helicopters courtesy of the anti-war march. If I didn�t have to present in the morning, I�d probably go join them. But I can see them from my window, moving slowly and steadily down Wacker Drive, signs held high, their chanting twisted incomprehensively by the sound ricocheting off the canyons of buildings. Strangely there�s been no talk of the protest here at the conference. Time stops at these meetings. The world could explode and we wouldn�t know it.

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