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November 4, 2009
I have arrived in the present. Writing is, in that way, magical, just like reading. You can go backwards, forwards, or sideways. Maybe you can even go up and down. It is multi-directional, multi-dimensional. It is a miracle thing!

Today it was snowing in big, fat flakes. Then it was snowing in tiny, icy, annoying flakes. Then it was raining, and all turned to slush. Is this how the world works? Is this what life has to offer? Will I, at the end of my days, see everything turn to slush?
Let's not think about that.