2001-09-24 || 9:42 p.m.

|| black out freak out want out now. ||

so the devilish entirely uncharacteristic thunderstorm has gone from spectacular to bothersome, knocking out my neighborhood's power. i am sacrificing precious battery power and aline's hawaii souvenir candle (thank you neenay. the second the flame hits the airbrushed surfboard i will blow it out and sit in the dark, promise.) and writing a letter to me grandmum and coaxing chairman meow out from under the bed (she is not a fan of thunder.), wringing my hands and trying to think up somethin good to do alone in the dark. ahem. something else good to do alone in the dark. i am cataloguing the suckers of technology i own that simply will not function without electricity: my phone. the clocks. this computer if not for that bundle of loveliness, the battery. the record player. i am scolding myself for trading in the rotary dial. the wind up alarm clocks. the typewriters (it really was a ceremony, moving the smith corona off the desk and back into its case to make way for the smug sony vaio electronic notebook. (('electronic!' the smith corona scoffs from within its case. 'i function quite well in the dark. and the tap tapping of my keys would be most comforting to you right now, alone in your apartment, you old biddy.')) ). sucker. so i am sitting here. in the quiet. letting the nobler of my possessions yell at me (i hear the chickens in my forgotten alarm clock threatening me in the bathroom) for my loserliness and suckerdom. i am thinking of getting out. i am thinking of taking a walk. i am thinking of pulling the lucky green beanie down low and the collar of the red raincoat up and rushing to the payphone on the corner (the rotary dial is thumping its receiver at me from inside the kitchen cabinet) and calling. someone. and laughing a tinny high octave laugh. why no, no we don't have any power here. why yes, yes i am on san pablo right now because i am tired of sitting in the dark writing letters to grandmas by candlelight like abraham lincoln. yes i would love to come over. no, not just because rain and thunder and lightning make me want to kiss you hard and i am lonely and am willing to use any excuse, be it freak of nature thunderstorms, to come knocking on your door, smiling sheepishly with tomorrow's clothes stuffed in my satchel.

it is very quiet. the hills surrounding me are completely black and it is hard to tell if they are there anymore.

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