21:11 - July 23, 2002
backasswards
I had this strange everything-is-either-ironic-or-backwards dream last night, where everything that�s been subconsciously bugging me came splashing down the braintubes, bringing with it things I haven�t thought about in years. It ended up being an odd combination. Camille was bugging me that I wasn�t moving fast enough and we needed to get moving if we were going to get to the Metro in time, which, for some reason, was in San Francisco at the intersection of two (nonexistent, I�m sure) streets called Maxy and Pove. The show was in exactly the same time frame as the climbing wall is open; 9 to 11. It was 8 o�clock and I still hadn�t taken a shower, though Camille had called me two hours ago to ask if I was ready and I�d said I was. She got so ticked that she eventually came over and shoved me bodily into the shower, then turned her back. �Go on, make thyself clean,� she said dismissively from the corner. �I�m not watching. We have to make it to the Metro.�

I tried to turn the situation around into a lesson for her not to always keep other people waiting, and not to take naps when one is supposed to have called two hours ago, but the words were molasses in my mouth. I couldn�t find my shampoo and I needed to shave my legs but I didn�t have a razor. Eventually, I gave up and got out, instantly fully clothed and dried and filthy, I brushed my hair back and hid it under a cap, and we walked into the street, where Aubrey and Jonas were playing catch with a Koosh ball over my car. They wouldn�t move when we asked them to, and Camille was considering running both of them over and leaving them for the crows. However, my kind heart prevailed. I calmly walked over to Jonas, took the ball out of his hand, and tossed it so it landed on the roof of Orrington School. This pissed him off greatly, which caused him to disappear. I looked at Aubrey, who had grown a wild curly beard, started balding, and gotten fat� I�m not sure how I recognized him�. but we had a short conversation about his major in college and how he was going to come back and be colleagues with Mr. Meyer and then kill him surreptitiously in the music library.

I woke up feeling very vulnerable and very COLD. The temperature had somehow gone from 95 to 55 in the middle of the night, and some dad kind of person had opened my window. The fluffy quilt I sleep under even in the dog days of summer was no match for 55 degree weather. Down-stuffed mummy sleeping bags don�t do it for me, caught in nature. So remind me again why I�m joining the Outdoor Program?

and if anything mattered
maybe I�d go out of my way
and if there was a difference
i might stop caring,
i might stop putting so much faith
in what you say

so old school.

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