2004-05-03 || 7:50 p.m.
|| matt simon, class of 94. throwing my arms up and looking elsewhere ||
because i like spying. i like crushes so much better because there is the watching and the waiting and the clues. apple cores in trash cans and the same striped socks always worn on mondays. charts and graphs and interminable notes written in an increasingly urgent hand. tiny books bound in green fabric covering the single topic of "lunchtime observations." or "deductions from polaroid." sanctifying crosswalks and patches of sidewalk and blue striped vans. reconstructing events, rehashing looks that may or may not have been fabricated, remembering middle names and orders at del taco and gathering it all as evidence. as something.
i just wrote this and then decided against it. i realized i've written it before, down to the tiniest detail/green notebook/apple core so many times over and over. i'm beginning to think that's what this page has become. the same thing over and over. i used to write about bath tubs and grocery stores, bath tubs and grocery stores in every story. remember, michael? 1997-98. now it's me reverting to the sixteen year old me with gang of boy and polyester dresses and crushes and polaroids and i'm tired of the whole thing.
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