So, on the day Ray Charled died, I happened to forget to bring CDs into my car. So I went ahead and listened to the radio, and found out that Ray Charles was indeed a god.

You know, there are all these 'classic' things that you are apparently obligated to like if you are alive in our time. George Clinton and the Parliament Funkadelic, The Beatles, MASH, Billie Holiday, Paul Newman... you know, the pop culture agreements that are the coin of the realm. I tend to ignore these things. Basically, I don't want myself pretending to like something if I don't Actually like it, so I'll wait to experience it until people stop telling me that I have to.

Like The DaVinci Code. I'm sure it's very good, and if you ever want me to read it, shut yourself up now.

The upside of this is that certain things are genuinely new and awesome to me when I get around to them. Like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. That was fuckin great.

I think it was an act of my inner deity that brought me to really listen to the voice of Ray Charles. When I heard him on the radio, I heard two songs in a row without his name baing mentioned, and by the second, I was like, Ah. This must be the guy that everyone is mourning over. He is just a whole different class of singer entirely, and there are very, very few of them. Yes, his voice is fantastic. It is melodious and sweet, of a perfect human tone. But it is his SOUL that makes it come through. It doesn't come from his head, or even his heart--it comes straight from his goddamned soul, which is so big and wide and deep that yours just happens to be a part of it. Hough.

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This 4th's fireworks show over Lake Tahoe was the best I've ever seen. If we could just dedicate all of our gunpowder to the manufacture of fireworks, I would be a happier woman. Though dogs all over the world would probably curse my name.

This morning, before setting out for the drive back home, I woke from the sleep of the righteous and unworried. I swear, just waking up left me smiling peacefully for the next hour. I had no idea why; I started to wonder, but then I stopped, because it caused a crease in my spaciously unfurrowed brow. I thought, perhaps, that this is what happens when you spend the entire weekend among extended family, even if you don't understand their language and they try to get you to eat meat. Or maybe not. It's just been a good day so far.

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I make the best sunny-side-up eggs of anyone I know. (Thanks Paul ;)

5:20 p.m. 2004-07-05�