2002-10-08 || 10:45 p.m.

|| encyclopedia: paper diaries ||

i have an obsessive-compulsive habit of checking back on old diaries to see how everything fits on the timeline. finishing one and getting the one prior out to see how they connect. it is important to get dates straight. to add and subtract. it's been this many days since i have seen x. it has been this many days since i've had some serious lovin. i was like this in winter: refer to polaroid rubber cemented to page 128. i like to see how i've changed, page by page by page. book thirty-two to thirty-three and i've changed a lot. in winter my handwriting was small. it was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with the crusts cut off and crafting alone in my studio and meow meow as my closest and dearest friend (how many pages i spent on her antics, oh. it makes me sad though, because she's changed a lot too. there hasn't been a good rousing meow wake up call in quite some time. i will talk to her about this this evening i think, once she is through torturing stewart cat.). it was going out every night and being in satisfactory contact with my friendlies. it was writing pages and pages about the weather. and laundromat adventures. and romantic upset. lists of favorites. list of artistic endeavors. it makes me sound very alone, not so much in a sad lonely way, but in this blissful life-within-the-confines-of-a-lovely-enchanting-snowglobe way. i sound older. at the point where when my adolescent children are incredulous i ever was their age, i will refer to this part of my life, the part about living Alone.

and the next book is completely different. there are parts written entirely in a foreign curlicue cursive. it's summery adventures, full of dirt from camping and grubby fingerprints from long car rides. games of mash written in pencil. boy chronicles and the same story over and over and over. constantly talking about there not being enough time to talk to all the people i love very much. i feel like i have reverted to high school. or more likely: the way i wish high school was. late night adventures and weeknight dance parties and lists of the boys who might want to kiss me. entire conversations, transcribed. the entire season of summer encapsulated in a book, and i am surprised to see this summer landed in the volume it did.

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