I’ve been back in Valencia for forty days. With every day that goes by, I feel my connection to Berkeley diminishing. It’s a sad thing to realize I may not be back there for several years. There are too many good memories to just let go. Strangely, my life there is divided into several distinct parts. The first is spending time with Chris, when I was still with Xandus. The second is the year spent with Jenny. The third, and last, is my last semester, spending time at Cafe Trieste, talking with Sam and Teddy, talking lit with Chaz. I don’t really think of those two years as continuum. There are definitely specific parts which are wholly separate from the entire experience. I want to say that those two years were the best of my life, but I really can’t make any value statements about “best of my life” moments. I just know there were some good times there.

Jenny came back from England on Saturday. I didn’t get to see her at all during these last four days before she went back to Berkeley. It is very unlikely that I’ll ever see her again. What’s most crushing for me is my own stupidity.

Ever since I finished reading “The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle,” I’ve felt lost about what to read next. I started “The Sound and the Fury,” but it is really difficult. Today I read some Sedaris, but as funny as he is, this collection, “When You Are Engufled in Flames,” is really weak.