they pulled my hair at charm school.
they
stole my guestbook during
rolecall.
do: mock the vanity. + November 7.2005 = 10:05 p.m.
�This city is neither a jungle nor the moon nor the Grand Hotel. In long shot: a cosmic smudge, a conglomerate of bleeding energies. Close up, it is a fairly legible printed circuit, a transistorized labyrinth of beastly tracks, a data bank of asthmatic voice-prints. Only some of its citizens have the right to be amplified and become audible.� �I, etcetera� s.s.
quarters. short cut the corners. laundry. clean sheets. new light bulbs. 25 watts. new lamps and the room looks different. envelopes with nothing in them. change the typewriter ribbon. //// last thursday I had dinner with a boy I haven�t seen in 10 years. felt afraid of my own face in the mirror when i checked for freckles (gone, sadly, after a mysterious re-appearance this summer) and any visible signs of a g i n g. where is the face last shown off at age 19? all expectant & 24hrs to stay awake. somebody said recently about the a.m.: I have to wait a few hours for my face to set// you know,to look like itself again after I wake up. I�ve been sleeping with the windows open. (he looked nearly the same. this city makes everyone skinnier. i kept thinking of the word:slight. he was also 8x nicer than I remember.)
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