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2002-04-28 || 11:08 a.m. || saturday in santa cruz || rollercoasters and funnel cake and sand in our shoes and uncontrollable anti-gravitational laughter. you know you're getting old when the boardwalk = sunburn and nausea and lamenting the price of beer and noting the abundance of lip glossed fifteen year olds as some sort of sociological experiment. we split sixty-four tickets among the four of us, stood in lines and hurt our necks. forty minutes later and we were searching for beaches to huddle in the wind and drink beer. we watched our cans fill with sand and took polaroids: joe in his beanie and brian in those pants and sarah with a burny nose and me and the red scarf. shaking off the sand to walk up and down pacific avenue, embarrass joe in streetlight records. we took the 1 home. we listened to the tape-deckless car stereo and sang songs when there was nothing good on. marvelling at the wondrous name 'pomponio' (it's good, isn't it? you have to yell it loud: 'pom-poooooooooooh-nioooooooh, nooooo!') and sitting in the backseat trying to focus on fields and cliffs and beach signs so as not to let the wrath of the big dipper reappear in my head. getting back to joe's. dancing in his wee apartment while trying to decide where to go for dinner. walking around the excelsior in the dark. getting home and taking off my shoes to dump half the sand of santa cruz on the apartment carpet. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |