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2007-07-07 - 9:05 a.m.

Just woke up. Ten minutes ago. We'll see if that means anything. I'm drinking coffee and thinking about the dream I just had where I was a third-grade teacher and it was the first day of class (the nerves, the unpreparedness!) and I had just an enormous classroom jammed with let's say a hundred and ten kids. And there was another teacher (always middle-aged, middle-sized, middle-gray) observing me and when I asked her if this was a typical size for a class, she said, "More or less," and went back to taking down notes.

My current Favorite Song is, without a doubt, "The Big Guns" by Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins. I sing it in my head all the time. And I don't usually go in for alt-country or whatever, but when I was driving back from DC on Tuesday night, after hanging with drunk college friends and searching for my car for 45 minutes in Northeast, this song cut through the rain and fog just right. When she says anything remotely edgy or bitter, in that voice, it shocks you, so that when she says, "He forgives you for all you've done. But not me. I'm still angry," it rattles you up. You're not taking his forgiveness?

Funny, but though I haven't played organized baseball in 12 years, high blue skies like today's always make me think of summer leagues. The kind where you wake up early on Saturdays and drive an hour west into the hills somewhere and play a doubleheader against some country team in a league where they haven't yet banned snuff and big hunks of Red Man. Always Red Man, and Skoal or sometimes Copenhagen. And the first game, starting at 10 maybe, would be fine, but then the second game, after a Pepsi, would get hot hot hot, the sweat coming off your forehead in sheets and when you wipe it on your sleeve, the brown streaks on the fabric because it's dirty and dusty everywhere. And the ride home, spikes off, socks rolled down, wind fast through the windows, right foot curled around the gas pedal because you really want to feel it.

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