June 12th, 2004

lit

i am moving backwards

so, i was coming home from london for the month of april in '04, the first time i'd been in california in a year, the first time i'd stay longer than two days in better than a year and a half. i was coming home for baseball (seven games in two and a half weeks, motherfucker), and because i just couldn't be so far away anymore. the week before i left, i did no schoolwork and wrote this instead. at the time, i thought it might be the best i'd ever written. it's still not clear whether that's true.

i have some serious problems with this story, but if i'm in the right state of mind and i reread that tangential, philosophical section towards the tend, i am reminded of many things and sometimes it's hard to take.

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