2004-05-19 || 2:23 p.m.

|| monday morning vacation ||

1. s's house is full of cats and brothers and books. in the morning we walked in to find s asleep on the couch, home from the graveyard shift. half empty beer bottle and ernest hemingway and a letter i had written to him unopened in its pink envelope on the coffee table. he's never seen it. i remember going through three envelopes until i got the lettering right (with black paint smudge. the g didn't look right and i had blacked it out and decided to leave it like that. in the name of mail art.) and sitting on the porch while writing it and mentioning something about my boyfriend and summertime, both of which became irrelevant two weeks later unopened on a table in san clemente. we went to breakfast up the street in time to watch border patrol screaming around the corner trying to catch some guy weaving through traffic. s got beer and steak and kell and i fought over the international delights creamers. i felt funny. i wore my coat the entire time even though it was 81 degrees in san clemente.

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