2003-10-29 || 11:25 p.m.

|| secret trip ||

i was on a plane for eight hours today, being shuttled along dotted lines across and up the country, alternately craving cigarettes and the internet.

check and check.

whirlwind adventures. favorite articles of clothing packed into borrowed suitcases to pull out and see how they translate in a different place and context. we didn't get to sleep until the sun came up and never got outside before the sun went down. i didn't eat and i drank too much and i learned a few things about the art of striking up meaningless conversation. i made decisions regarding whether to be a casual-acquaintance side-of-the-face kisser based on a guy named philip who executes such things so effortlessly. i made more drunken phone calls than i care to remember, all outside in rain talking too loud so that the curbs and graffiti could be alerted to my state. my heart shifted a little bit. i got into arguments that usually ended in some sort of wrestling. i never got to see the stone lions at the library or greenwich village (i wanted to go just to get it right. i have a shirley maclaine 1950s perception of new york and as much as i cherish it, i feel i should try to get my facts straight.). i have a strange new sense of myself that i'm trying to reconcile, but maybe that's just because of the haircut.

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