24 november 1999 | back | archive | forward

i needed to walk. i usually don't walk the town alone that late at night, but i was sick of the things in my room. my computer and stereo and even my VCR as lovely as they are were not enough company. i was lonely. i wanted to be around people. i had to get out.

so i slipped on my converse and threw on my wool coat and slung my old navy satchel over my shoulder, i turned off the CD player and lights, and out i went, through the living room, down the stairs and onto the street. i walked one block up and two blocks over to anastasia's, my hands deep in my pockets, my feet moving briskly, my eyes looking straight ahead.

i ordered my usual, a vanilla latte, and the boy with curly hair gave it to me in a mint green mug. i sat in the corner of the coffeehouse and sipped my coffee, content, alone, watching. watching everyone who walked through the door, just enjoying the scenery.

the femmebot girl with the skintight pants and white marshmallow ski jacket (is it snowing outside? i hadn't noticed) and the frumpy man with his hand literally down his pants (please sir, i don't want to see) and the spikey blond haired skater peering in the doorway cautiously peeking in (cute boy, come sit with me).

the man with the v-neck tee and white jeans, he tap-danced his way to the dessert display case and over to the table right beside me. he picked up his keys and jangled them twice then put them back down, and then began tapping his feet. to the beat of the music, yes, but still it was overpowering the subtle jazz.

the boy with the beautiful eyebrows stacked his books one on top of the other on top of the other, carefully, so carefully, and then pulled out his cell phone and dialed. he spoke into it and then laughed, no, guffawed. and snorted. a roar of laughter.

ladies in all black and faux fur coats slivered into the table across the room. ohmygod and can you believe it and like i am so sure and so i said fuck that, i don't need him. yeah, they nodded in unison, where's jimmy? oh he's with courtney. shut the hell up, no way. yes way.

the woman with big hair and her balding companion sauntered past my table and bumped my chair without even noticing. "this is the hip hangout," she whispered to him, and their eyes scanned the room knowingly.

and right then i knew i had to get out. i needed to get away from people. i was lonely.

so i threw on my coat and bag, brought my cup and saucer up to the counter and fought my way to the door. i stepped outside, back to the clean air, back to the empty street. i looked up at the sky and wished on a star and smiled at the moon, and i walked, slowly this time, back around the corner and toward my apartment. up the stairs, through the living room and into my bedroom.

i was alone. it was just what i needed.

ahh. four-day weekends.

something's wrong when the only thing to drink in your fridge is filtered water and miller lite.

i cannot express how deeply i have fallen in love with sappy pop band That Dog. oh their songs are so wonderful. retreat from the sun especially, but i bought totally crushed out, and it's good, too. (thanks chris!)

i am having family over on sunday for lunch. isn't that so grown up?

me. sometime. wink, wink. send e-mail to christine@maganda.org.

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