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2004-01-30 || 1:56 p.m. || brother jason and the ghosts || last week's debauchery and terrible lack of sleep has finally caught up with me and i am worklady zombie. last night i had old timey san francisco night with my brother jason. we fought over parking and went to chef jia's and sat in the upstairs window of vesuvio's drinking fancy wicked coffee drinks. i forget that he's one of the best friends, that he can pull my hair and call me on all my shit. as honorary sister i hear out his neuroticisms (is that a word?) and compliment him on his old man fashion sense and link arms with him along the seedy part of broadway like a couple of orphans (at least we dress the part) (why do the best friend boys all dress like orphans? is that why i like you so much, in the motherly nun tucking your head to my bosom type way?). he's a-ramblin so i don't see him so much. i worry about him. dear record labels, please consider him for your catalogue. the boy has tied all sense of self worth to his music and i fear the worst if he's not on trl sometime soon. it's weird knowing someone so well, having them tucked into all kinds of memories filed away as "the good old days," and walking around our fair city so many years later. it feels like we've been in a war and have returned home and nothing's right. there's trash all over mission street and the best neon sign are gone and the guy at the bookstore doesn't wave hello to you anymore. last night we were driving down fillmore street and stopped at the haunted part. michael used to work at the clay and i waited for him to get out at that coffee place. we used to buy fancy envelopes at the brown bag and drive home on the scooter. our outfits matched and we cut each other's hair and later there was owen to take the bus with and jason to be moody. oh. and now i feel like an old lady. suffering from best friend displacement like mad. being haunted by sidewalk and weather and that coffee smell in certain shops. going to our restaurant and getting drinks feels like this grand field trip, and all we do is sit with our shoulder hunched up to our ears analyzing what it all used to be like and how in the world we ever got to this point. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |