how is it I have been here eleven months already? i still don’t think of myself as a californian. and i want to go home. more than that, i just want to be home. i want to wake up knowing i am somewhere i belong. that my family is close by. yet, if i went back east, what would it be for? to see Cary? yeah, i’ll just hitch my wagon to that one and go really far.
2/8/97
scott
-having the secondary conversation in the vault-michi has to tell a joke and of course that is more important than anything i might have to say
-walking to the muni not letting me finish my sentences
-the time in bed, amazing, tender, so comfortable to sleep with-the right smell
-trish-how important the smell is.
-scott shern -the look when the whole ordeal at work arose. dumb fuckin’ bitch.
reaction to cat’s eye-margret atwood
“the past isn’t quaint while you’re in it. only at that safe distance, later, when you can see it as decor, not as the shape your life’s been squeezed into”
oh god how is it that now i have been here for, oh, let’s see…i got here in late february of 96…it is now july of 97. wow. a year and five months. damn. and i’ve slept with ray, and john (punk boy) and adam (god why?) and mark, and what the hell was nader anyway? and scott, and that’s not even including all the random men i’ve lusted after…currently it’s my email affair…scott huber…get that one.