2001-05-15 || 4:35 p.m.

|| hindsight erases all the rough parts. ||

if i talk about sunday on tuesday, i describe it like this: barbeque in sacramento. dirty hands and dirty feet and ketchup stains. bug repellant and beer. an army of hoodies and knee-length shorts. a couch outside, bicycles inside, line for the bathroom running into the kitchen. warm potato salad and blood on the hamburger buns. beautiful music coming from under a large tree strung with christmas lights: papercuts, dear nora, mirah, bright ideas. heckling and laughter and the phone ringing from inside but no one running in to pick it up. amplified guitar sounds carried in the wind. flyers in back pockets. a donation jar passed around, filled with one dollar bills. gin rummy on a lounge chair.

if i talked about sunday on sunday, it would be like this: cramps and no tampons. these old man pants i bought yesterday were a bad idea i think. i don't know where to stand. i don't know any of these people. please talk to me, you don't really have to say anything, i just am getting the feeling that i will dissolve away altogether, i am so uncomfortable in this backyard. and dissolving wouldn't be such a bad thing. please play your set so that everyone is facing forward and i won't have to catch anybody's eye. hamburger meat touching the veggie burgers on the grill, using the same spatula and same plate for both: kelly would have screamed at that.

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