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2000-10-11 || 16:47:57 || shyness is not nice. || last night i walked around in north beach for a bit before meeting a coupla boys for dinner at chef jia's. i sat in caffe greco (for the record caffe trieste is by far my favorite cafe in north beach, so full of ghosts and old men and the neatest phone booth ever), but i didn't feel like dealing with the initial panic of walking in. i am such a scaredy cat. i get very intimidated by walking into "cool" places and interacting with "cool" people standing behind the counter. and in reality i don't think that place is even considered cool. but i think it's really really cool. and usually i don't have a problem going.. i don't know what it is that puts me in that mood where i'd much rather be a shadow than a human girl. the shyness that i thought i had fully conquered rises up in me like indigestion and makes me walk in circles, trying to muster up the nerve to stop looking at the sidewalk. silly. and caffe greco just had an old italian guy working that wouldn't mind my nerdy self ordering coffee and sitting at one of his tables to write. i wrote letters. one to my sister in costa rica that made me so sick for her i am about to cry writing this. now that i think of it i ranted a lot about how we really need to open up our hair salon (one of my superpowers is cutting hair. i have the gift i tell ya. many of the number of fashionable heads you see around the greater bay area and san diego have been directly benefitted by my golden scissors. if you write to me i'll give you a free hair cut.) and start our fashion label (kell was a serious seamstress a while back and there was a point when she was wearing only clothes that she had sewn in the middle of the night on our mum's machine. it was brilliant.. no patterns, no fleshed out ideas, just kell sitting on the floor in the spare bedroom listening to jethro tull and cutting away at red and white polka dotted material, trying things on, cutting some more. i wrote a zine about it, and if i still had copies, i'd send one to you..)because (to back up my bouts with shyness and other lingering neuroses from the torture chamber that is junior high)it is my dream to never have to walk into a hair salon or clothing store again. i have conquered the hair salon by cutting my own hair, but the shopping part has still got me. i hate it. i have a terrible chip on my shoulder when it comes to clothing stores, especially mean snotty san francisco ones. i feel like such a ragamuffin when i walk into a fashionable store and i swear the salespeople smell my fear. but that my dear, is an entry of its own, complete with a compelling dressing room scene where i burst out in tears and trip over some pants and knock the dressing room walls down to a heap. so the letter's still sitting in my book next to the other two letters i wrote to her and haven't sent. i have a thing about envelopes-- finding the right kind and what kind of handwriting i'll use to address it and what picture i'll draw on the outside so that she'll know right away it's from me. so i need to send those. and then i wrote a half-hearted letter/poem to richard brautigan, but that was silly and i don't feel like talking much about that. or admit that i am writing letters to richard brautigan. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |