2001-07-02 || 12:33 p.m.

|| at the cafe. for maybe eight minutes. ||

saturday night i had a bellyful of wine and hefeweizen and caramel macchiato and standing against the wall inside the cafe (that cafe. the cafe on market and castro) watching everybody checking everybody out i couldn't breathe and had to go home i'm sorry i'm a drag but i can't breathe and can't stand being looked at and pushed out to the edges, drinks sloshing onto leather vests, my face all panic-stricken reflected in all those aviator glasses, i can't push my way to the stairs fast enough, bloody hell.

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