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2004-07-25 - 11:17 p.m.

What happened to today? I'm supposed to be in hiding, but wound up in Park Slope last night anyway, sitting on a polka-dotted sheet under a tree, listening to music in the dark while a Weimaraner licked my knee. When someone says, "Maybe we can stand against the fence and try to hear the music," the answer is, "Yes!" Or, possibly, it's just that when the phone rang everything was upside down, and yes was the quickest way to end the call.

After the show ended last night we had to go to the new bar. It had only been open for two hours and smelled like Home Depot, like paint and wood and industriousness. A tall married man spilled a drink on my leg, and then it was free drinks for everyone, and a longer night than I'd wanted. She said that she'd never be able to sleep and that we'd have to stay out with her until she was worn out enough to go home. I should learn to say things like that. Mr. Jane arrived to relieve us of Bees, and when he kissed me goodnight his scratchy chin surprised me. On some people facial hair is startling, I guess. It felt like there was more to him than I'd considered.

So, today. I started out alright, but then I went off course. Diplomacy wore me out, and I fell asleep for three hours this afternoon. There were knocks at the door, and the phone rang and rang, but I was out of reach, dreaming weirdly interesting dreams, like documentaries you run into on the Discovery Channel and can't walk away from. I was happy, and for the rest of the day I whistled commercial jingles and went about the awkward business I'd put off earlier, and it was fine. Maybe I'm finally learning the right way to sleep.

I've been thinking about a lot since I woke up. About how time machines should work, and how much I love this place, and what he was doing in that parking lot when he tore his hospital bracelet off, and how I'd lost all sense of the hour of the day, and the terrible things we wish for around here, and how good it is to listen to the one about Hamlet in prison no matter how often they play it, and how nice it would be if that giant box of popsicles was made up of only red, purple, and greens ones. I can't quite work it all out now, but it adds up to something good, I think. I'm optimistic, and I haven't even gotten to the newspaper yet.

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