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2007-10-13 - 2:08 a.m.

I'm reading through some old emails from a girl I never really stopped loving. These emails depict robust intellect on both ends, a probing intellect, getting at truths and finding them in the course of writing emails and the memories of that time are happy. That's probably not healthy, right, to read through those? Considering that I haven't seen her in a year. Maybe everyone does that. Shouldn't make a habit of it, perhaps.

The root of "happiness" is a Greek word that means "chance." Etymology = blowing minds since I figured out what it was.

I've got game two of the NLCS on the TV, with the sound off. It's the Rockies at the Diamondbacks. Normally, I wouldn't care about either of these teams except that the Rockies have won something like 18 of their last 19. That's nuts. That's like me getting to eat fresh scallops, tuna rolls, and seaweed salads for 22 of the last 25 meals. Or something else that is improbable. There is so much dead time between pitches and I forgot how, in the playoffs, television always cuts to someone's face--the pitcher's, the shortstop who just made an error, a blond woman behind the dugout--and they just went to both managers of this tied, extra-inning game. Both are middle-aged white guys with sun-reddened (boozed?) faces. Both were chewing the life out of chewing gum. They looked whanged-up, wired, drums-skin-tense. And I have that feeling in the gut when I see their jaws working that gum, that chew, chew, chew imperative that is so indicative of the need to do something already in a game like baseball or anything where you will either win or lose and it's not so much that you crave winning but only that you really don't want to lose, very, very badly. And then I remember playing second base, bottom of the tenth with two outs, and a chopper coming at me, the place going quiet, the runner taking off for first, and the ball bouncing once, twice, and right at me. And then there's no more chewing. You can only chew for so long.

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