Just another freak in the freak kingdom. I'm back in California. I got a new journal, the paper 'n' pen kind; a large one, like I had getting out of college but it's red instead of blue. I baught it at Borders -- store #1 -- in Ann Arbor, which I feel somewhat odd about viz. my general dislike for chain stores, but I talked with a dude who worked there and he told me that store was the first (and as yet only) Borders store where the employees were unionized. That's pretty cool.

I filled six pages on the flight home; a little puddlejump from Detroit to Pittsburgh, and then a spacious emergency exit row (and Spiderman 2) from there to SFO. It felt good, writing to myself. Back in the day my private journals were a great resource for good turns of phrase. Sometimes they're embarassingly poorly written, or the content seems in retrospect kind of rediculous, but that's the nature of the thing.