2003-10-28 - 1:46 a.m.

while whiling away my days in northern california, playing chess and catching up on partisan politics, i decided i had enough time and extra money to pop down to southern california and see my family. still a week out from the vancouver game, which is mostly planned, i thought it would also be a good idea to get out of my exceptionally generous northern californian hosts' hair for a day or two. this was days before most of southern california became blanketed in smoke.

my seatmate on the plane was flying back to san diego county to reinforce a home in imminent danger. as our airplane descended to 9,000 feet above long beach (one of the few airports with good visibility today), i heard her sharp intake of breath. we were descending through not a smog layer but a smoke layer. the sea beneath us as we banked winked in and out of existence in the thick brown haze. long beach is a good 50 miles from any of the many fires blazing out of control even as i write this.

my hometown has always had an apocalyptic feeling for me. i used to think everyone felt that way about the place they grew up. but later i realised that for most people earthquakes, droughts, riots, freeway shootings, and christian fundamentalism are not a normal part of growing up. late tonight, as the last-quarter moon glows red in the smoke and 80-foot walls of flame dominate the evening news, its easy to feel i could reach out and touch the end of the world.