2001-12-10 || 12:28 p.m.

|| hot sunday action ||

i can feel some kind of cold virus wriggling its way around various internal systems, wriggle wriggle shimmy shimmy. it's still in the very early stages and i feel a bit charmed by it, flushed cheeks and drunken feeling. not so bad yet. and i am listening to clinic. and it feels altogether inappropriate that i am sitting here at work plunking away listening to this music (pausing for track 9. getting lost in the dreaminess of this boy's voice. mm. hold on.) and sweating just a bit under the collar.

and it feels inappropriate that i have fallen back into the weekday routine after such a lovely yesterday. yesterday. owen and amy and lucas showed up at three-thirty in the wee hours to promptly eat the cookies i baked them and fall into sleeping bags. the next morning i walked with o to the bakery to get coffees and tea fer everybody. we ate at long life. we went to mod lang. i got to drive the van all day... to san francisco. to the haight. we walked in a bundle that quickly dwindled, pulled apart by sightings of long lost acquaintances and the search for a tambourine before the night's show and the magnetic draw of shoe stores. amy and i spotted claire danes and ben lee. o spotted john popper. we met up with my sis kell and the two of us ventured into amoeba for just a second so that we could get coveted cds real fast so that i would not hyperventilate. we hold hands when we're together. we latch on arm and arm and arm and arm while waiting in lines. it felt noticeable in the record store. it felt like people were looking. siamese twins. we finally got outside after our hasty purchases and stood in a clot on the sidewalk mejasonowenamylucasalene and kellyjeffjaimedan. we had to split up again, kell and her gang, me and mine. my gang picked up joe and ate at jay's. my gang wandered around and sang off-key christmas carols down lexington. my gang clamored into alene's apartment for a wee bit to pee and watch the simpsons and eat all the chocolates in one of those calendars, what are they called? the ones with the little doors? and then we drove to kimo's. we walked across van ness all loaded down with equipment, so many amps and keyboards and organs. a glockenspiel. it was lovely. single file line with extension cords flailin.

the show. hooray. the show was absolutely perfect i think. it felt like someone's living room. heckling the bands and getting murderous looks from jason (matt said to be sure to use the word 'scowl.'). (the papercuts are so. good. i am so. proud. it was the first time in such a long time that jason was completely at ease with his music, he was proud of it. he was completely lost in it, not apologizing, not rolling his eyes at any flubbed chords or missed beat. it was so nice to watch.) egging owen on until he pulled the microphone from the stand and i was afraid he was going to hit me with it. sitting in the front row with joe and matt, kelly somewhere behind, elka and kirsten somewhere behind, all kinds of friendlies and jokes and laughing and. it was brilliant. (lhr i looked for you. i saw other antelopes but alas.) i love love love shows like that. being able to flutter around from one group to another, be loud, heckle the talent, pinch people's arms while the bands are playing. i think i was smiling the entire time. it felt like how it's supposed to be, with all my favorites there except for that one. i thought of you in the middle of a song, one of lucas's that we used to listen to in the car, and i got a lump in my throat. i imagined just for a second that you had sent yourself in a big wooden crate down from portland and were ready to emerge at the end of lucas's set. part the crowd like the red sea and walk up to the front, fill up the empty spot we saved for you, just in case.

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