__2004-06-30 @ 7:28 p.m._______
California. The state so many songs are sung for, an ode if you will. The golden state that so many fashionable modern writers set their work inside of, it becomes simultaneously unfashionable and predictable. California. Why would a pale Midwestern boy, from a town of twenty thousand, a little self-indulgent town in the middle of Illinois, want to obsess about living in California? Is it wrong for me to be so naive, so credulous to think that living in this new place is somewhat exotic? I know it may be precarious, with the money issues and all, and I even have a bit of that Midwestern pride that acts as a common sense module of sorts or a grounding device, in case unrealistic becomes ridiculously unrealistic. Besides, in the tradition of the naive actor or actress, musician/entertainer, surfer/skateboarder, ect., Jill and I will go out to California (insert rock song with said state in title and/or chorus) bright-eyed, nervous, and ecstatic as hell. Optimism will serve diligently as grace and the golden state will have to show a little generosity to save these pale Midwestern kids from adding a little more resentment to the tall, sometimes adversely glamorous, westward tale of cali.
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