Let's go for a ramble

After David Halberstam's sudden passing a few weeks ago, one of my roommates recounted an article he'd once read about the prolific writer. According to this article, Halberstam had viewed most accomplished writers as being far too lazy, holding the opinion that success was enough to lead renowned literary figures to complacency. The Pulitzer prize winning journalist and author, though, too the opposite approachby tirelessly writing on a variety of topics until his death in April. As ESPN.com (it is easy to forget that Mr. Halberstam was a devoted sports writer in addition to his more widely read literary pursuits) columnist Michael MacCambridge wrote in his wonderful tribute piece, "To Halberstam, sports was never a step down":

"Some writers grow lazy as they grow more famous, but that's not what happened to Halberstam. Instead, he grew more prolific and, perhaps because of that, less disciplined. He always seemed to be rushing to the next assignment. "

Say what you will about a decline in the quality of Halberstam's later works, I think his singular ability to unrelentingly put words on the page. After all, you can't be a good writer if you never actually write anything. And so it is that I find myself here writing another blog entry with no particular topic in mind. Mr Halberstam's methodology shall be mine- at least for this afternoon. I guess I'm hoping I have one of those "Finding Forrester" moments where mindless typing eventually leads to a well-crafted essay. Unlikely, I know. At the very least, I can rest assured that no matter how worthless this entry may be, it won't be read by more than a handful of people. If the vast world of blogs were like the Nielsen ratings for television, I suppose I'd be much closer to static on the screen than I am to American Idol's season finale. Or Home Shopping Network reruns at 4 AM. Or a public access channel broadcasting last week's town council meeting...

Easily ten minutes have passed since I wrote that last paragraph, and still I have nothing to write. So instead I will share meaningless fodder:

-A younger guy walked into the office a short while ago and sat at the desk next to me. He is currently looking at excel spreadsheets and assorted case files on his computer, which leads me to believe he works here in some capacity. But the fact that I have never seen him before concerns me. And he is wearing emo glasses. Needless to say, I feel sufficiently threatened.

-I am hungry. Very very hungry. My problem, as is so often the case when I am at this office, is that I don't know where to go for food. My options:

1. The Corner Bakery- sort of like one of those quasi-friends you like, but not enough to keep you from getting tired of seeing them. I have had the same meal (chili in a bread bowl) from Corner Bakery two days in a row now and three would be pushing it.
2. Subway- Always a solid bet, but never manages to blow me away.
3. The Marquette Inn- the only non-chain restaurant in my building's vicinity. I actually like the Marquette more for its atmosphere than its food. For one thing, it isn't exactly the type of eatery that draws in the stuffy suit-wearing crowd that is a hallmark of the Corner Bakery during the lunchtime rush. As far as I'm concerned, that's why it seems so relaxed-people aren't scurrying to make court dates or meetings. Furthermore, most lawyers and businessmen would never think to take a client to lunch there, which means when people are eating together you can assume they are friends. On top of all that, the waitresses know what they're doing (if you order something on the menu that people don't tend to like, they will tell you straight up not to order it), are uber-friendly, and keep the place running smoothly. Unfortunately, the quality of the food is average at best (I guess there are more then one reason reason not to take a client there.)

As this post has proven to be a disappointment, I am going to roll the dice and head to the lobby- perhaps by the time my four floor elevator descent is over inspiration will strike and dictate where I end up eating.