2002-02-07 || 11:17 p.m.

|| my sweet alley kids. hot toddies and anchor steams all around. ||

we were talking on the phone about how those two have taken the unsolicited position of my audience. as the audience they sit across from me at the alley and listen to my stories. as the audience they laugh and applaud when the lights blink on and off, on and off, applaud applaud. i subject them to boy drama and work mishaps and awful secrets i should keep to myself. something to work on: keeping personal details to self. no one wants to hear what the word 'boggle' is code for. no one wants to hear in intricate detail, illustrated with the regular onslaught of flowcharts and bar graphs, my schemes and interpretations of hopelessly boring minutiae. but they are very nice about the words that fall out of my mouth, the secrets and schemes, and they don't stare at them or comment on the unfashionable shoes my secrets are wearing. they let me pretend i am in a serial of my own making. tune in next time and the like. costume changes and bright lighting and last minute editing in the script. cliffhangers.

you two are very nice. thank you for putting up with me.

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