2003-02-05 || 2:26 p.m.

|| an-say iego-day ||

o wondrous weekend. of the multiple trips to seven-eleven and ample time for lying in the sunny spot on the carpet to watch cable and slurp squishies. of over-crowded cars weighed down by belt buckles and ill-fitting shirts and bad haircuts. of art openings with patrons spilling onto sidewalk like cheap wine and hiding around the corner with o and n repeating ghost stories and dirty jokes. of driving the van for hours at a time down freeway past hills along santa monica boulevard. of secret crushes and butterflies. of rawk shows held on college campuses and the dreamiest emo drummer who looks just like your roommate would ten years ago. of drunk girls and awkward moments. of hanging out in the parking lot for lack of a plan and need to catch up (distant friend of parking lots past reeking of gin. accidentally kissing on the mouth as a good bye through the open van window). of sprawling on couches wishing you had ear plugs. of hugging your sister while her best friends are playing loud and sassy. of neck rubs and new hair-dos and breaking into spontaneous dance by the magazine rack in the music store. of sunshine and telephone poles. of the forgiving nature of fashion when touring (no matter how short a jaunt) is concerned. of theme songs and cassettes from your senior year in high school.

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