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2003-12-21 || 8:04 p.m. || december 21 || it feels like it's much later than eight o'clock at night (we were up late. party at matt's in a blackened san francisco; stopping at every intersection and christmas songs in falsetto; tea lights lining lobby halls and the wooden floor of matt's flat; voices and couches and the rain outside; highlight: owen brian and i on the balcony overhearing very young cool kid armed with shaggy hair and half-empty forty in the bedroom whine, "what time is it? they don't even have any music playing." no electricity, my friend.) and i am making half-hearted efforts at cleaning while waiting for michael and jason to arrive from their day-long jaunt down the length of the coast. i am imagining their getting here, my handing them cookies still warm from the oven (for that is what honorary mothers do), dropping off bags and pulling scarves tight to run out into the night and get mashed potatoes and whiskey at the irish pub down the street. tomorrow we drive to orange county, kell michael and i, and i would like to stop at pea soup anderson's for the sake of atmosphere and decor. i kind of want to keep driving forever and never have to stop for christmas and relatives and uncomfortable beds. just michael and kell and me in the car, singing maybe, drawing hearts in the fogged up windows. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |