One. More. Entry. In the reading journal. To go.

I am so bored. Too much writing about hypertext fiction and ergodic literature and getting all upset about people implying that reading anything where you have to click on lots of links and scroll a lot can be as wholly immersing as reading a book. I just don't believe it. Not that hypertext can't be interesting... just that I've never experienced the same trance state while reading it that I have while reading a book.

I could write on and on about this, but I'm sure that most or all of what I have to say about it has already been written in a very scholarly fashion. Also, I'm sick to death of thinking about it. Really, I want chocolate, or maybe an omelet. Yes, an omelet and toast, with grape jelly. Perhaps Jenny will join me this evening for an Italian Villa feast. I'll call her and find out. And then write that one. Last. Entry.