[when you're gone, will they love you the same]

today is one of those rare perfect days when it's warm enough to have the windows open but still cool and breezy enough to be able to nap under a heap of blankets.

[all i know is -- ]

today i winked at an eighteen year old relief pitcher and he blushed so red i thought his face was going to spontaneously combust.


then the zipper on the dress i was wearing got stuck and i had to call my sister to come over and rescue me.

[your los angeles -- ]

i've kept score at baseball games for as long as i can remember. it keeps me in the game, and it's nice to be able to look back and remember the games i've seen. my daddy gave me my current scorebook for christmas six years ago, and i have kept more than 30 games in it since. games in camden yards, games at wrigley, games at boshamer stadium in chapel hill and the sky dome and durham athletic park. it lost its back cover last weekend during the carolina/boston college series. it's rain spattered and smeared and full of rosters and old all-star ballots, full of mediocre lines from future major leaguers and stellar lines from ballers who'll never play a day in the minors.

i love it more than almost anything else i own. the laptop and the camera and the cat and the paper journal are pretty much the only things that come first.


carolina's starting third baseman caught an inning at the game last wednesday, and it was pretty much the best thing ever, except for where they put up eleven runs in the eighth against florida state last night, which was also totally amazing.

[thank god for the tva]

today i bought myself a bright pink halter-neck sundress. i hung it in my closet and thought that it doesn't look like something i'd have ever worn when i was with the ex. it makes me happy to have it now.

i will never get tired of jason isbell singing "thank god for the tva".

[it's easier to let it all die a fairytale]

The hippies rode a wave putting smiles on faces
that the devil wouldn’t even put a shoe.
Caught between a generation dying from its habits,
and another thinking rock and roll was new.
Till the pawn shops were packed like a backstage party,
hanging full of pointy ugly cheap guitars
And the young'uns all turned to karaoke,
hanging all their wishes upon disregarded stars

-- Mike Cooley, "Self-Destructive Zones"