It was less like seeing than like being for the first time seen...

11 March 2007

Grey day, Grade A.

I should make a zine about Sunday nights spent at LAX. I should make a zine about Sunday nights. And I will only work on it on Sunday nights. Or we could start a Sunday night club. We will make sundaes and go skateboarding. We can make flyers about nothing and hang them up around the city. Oh, and we should order pizza. I should really eat more pizza. Kelly Ginger, do you remember when I would write love notes to pizza during our Physical Geography class? Do you remember taking the bus to class together in our matching red peacoats? Do you remember when you lived downstairs from me and we would ride bikes to the farmers' market every Saturday morning?
Tonight Luke and I had a Sunday night club. We ate chocolate with ginger in it and we split an orange. Luke is talking to Sarah now in the other room.
I really miss you. If you were here, would I still feel sad? Would you feel sad? Would we be able to figure something out? Do you remember when you were sad and I thought you should move, but you worried it would just be running away from your problems? But then you did move, and you were still sad for awhile, but then it got easier? I don't know what point I'm trying to make. Something about escapism and something about location and something about how I need to get over my fear of Sundays because I don't want to throw away one seventh of my life.

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