2002-01-06 || 12:21 p.m.

|| dr. hand, i think you really should pay a visit. it would be very nice. do you play cards? ||

dear dr. hand,

you just left me a guestbook entry and i would like to thank you very much. it's funny, isn't it? because my life is very blah, too. i sit in my apartment sometimes with my head propped up on my chin and i don't know at all what to do with myself. i make decisions- i read or i work at some sort of project with a 70% likelihood it will end up unfinished and abandoned in the closet. or i putter around declaring i am busy, i am active, but really i am inexplicably nervous and mechanical in my movements. those are the scary times. those are the parts i don't want anyone to know i experience. the wistfulness. the what the hell do i do now. the why am i here and i thought things would be different and god, what if this is it? and i'm floating around in outer space for the rest of my life because nothing seems to work out as planned?

and then nice things happen. someone calls me up from his job at the tattoo parlor (i love that. i had to mention. the sweetest tattoo-less boy calls from the reception desk and i imagine him perpetually in a tie and suit coat with a voice i remember from dorm rooms and cafeterias) and in a bit i am driving across the bridge, singing along to music, and everything falls into place perfectly. we walk up and down hills with the nicest kids to the safeway to stand in the liquor aisle. we play canasta for hours and hours and pass drinks around the table, perfect concoctions of champagne and rum and cassis and mountain dew code red, and we are sitting outside on the porch smoking and laughing and i look out at the street for a second because i would like to remember this. this makes all the awkward parts, the alone at home with nothing to do parts, quite okay.

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