2001-10-26 || 1:29 p.m.

|| phantom sidekick serenade ||

getting used to not having a sidekick.

prolonging lunch time for as long as possible so as not to worry about what to get/where to sit/what to do. smoking to stay occupied. keeping postcards in your bag to be able to write a letter anywhere at any time about anything at all. getting really good at solitaire. fending off the boys who brazenly ask for your phone number, however rarely it happens, and learning how to say sorry i am not interested or sorry i have a boyfriend or no thank you please go away now i am just sitting here trying to eat my sandwich. calling up friends living within a ten mile radius to beg them to come out for a pizza picnic. keeping up on your paper journal. taking a renewed interest in the weekly papers. looking at people in the eye while crossing the crosswalk in hopes of drumming up missed connections. inventing stories while watching clouds go by. taking advantage of noontime concerts in sproul plaza because there is music and you don't have to feel the need to talk to anybody. getting very excited by seeing people you know, whether it's sweet lucinda or bundtcake or random kids from southern california or old roommates or sheepish friends of the exboyfriend or a certain comic book artist you had secret crushes on for years and years long ago (reading issue after issue on muni, composing letters to the artist in hopes they may show up on the inside covers of the next issue) until he started going out with your friend and now you see him every once in a while and he calls to you from across the plaza and he talks to you and nods and smiles and waves goodbye, and despite yourself you are wishing you had a sidekick right there right then to sock in the arm and say, yeah, he knows my name.

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