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21:05 - May 30, 2002
hammock
I luuuuuuurrrrrve summery days that don't fall in summer, even more than I luurrve the ones that do fall in summer (see? i used more u's and r's in the first one; that proves it completely). I danced out of school at 11:35 AM, flashing my ID and a charming innocent smile at Big John the Security Guard, danced over to Camille's car, and the rest of the day was ours. Wind at 70 miles per hour is lethal (for hair as well as general stupidity; I don't even want to know what I must have looked like to passers-by, my face out the window, lips flopping around and distorting in the sucking pressure of the interior vs. exterior of the car, hair straight up over my twitching eyebrows). When I stepped out of the car, my throat was coated in dust and my lips stuck to my gums. Camille told Erik he had that sexy JBF look (just been fucked, for all you out of the loop-ers), when, in fact, I couldn't, technically, find his face underneath his hair.

It gets fuzzy after lunch, since I suppose I must have fallen asleep, and when I came around enough to notice my surroundings, I was propped up against a tree in the Civic Center Field, taking off my sandals one by one, slowly. They'd somehow gotten me down there without me having been awake. I don't ask questions, not when the answer is likely to include 'well, we stripped you, formed a hammock with your clothes, put you in the hammock, and swung you down to the park, where we then redressed you and propped you against a tree'. I just follow their lead. Mike's got a frisbee, so I spread out like the rest of them. I'm surprised to find my arms move, and coordinate, although after awhile it stops mattering, since Cam and I find ourselves rolling hysterically around on the grass, tossing dandelion stems at each other and pounding the ground with our flailing feet, rolling backwards and sideways and gasping for air the whole time. Erik, silent, sneaks up behind her and drops a stem down the front of her shirt. With a shriek, she gives chase. I do a backwards somersault, and keep somersaulting until I'm dizzy and fall backwards, back into the grass. Mike stands over me, a slight grin playing at the edges of his lips. He still wants to play ultimate frisbee, I think. But there's an all out attack match going on by now, everyone against everyone, and Mike is left holding the Frisbee while Camille chases Erik around trying to drop things in his clothes, and I hop onto his back from behind while kicking at Camille's hand, and she falls over, but he doesn't; he gets me in a headlock and tumbles over me to the ground, where I'm pinned. Mike is a blue streak from nowhere all of a sudden, brandishing Camille's belt (whenever it came off..) and swinging it like a wild drunk cowboy with a very non-useful lasso, but fortunately he's staying far away. Everyone is circling and running and laughing and falling and dripping sweat and I can't remember a time when I've been happier. Just as happy, maybe, but not happier. I love having no purpose but silliness.

Eventually I manage to smack everyone's ass with the open end of the Frisbee, and at some point I get my voice back. It clicks back in while sprawled in the grass next to Erik, observing all the three-leaf clovers and wishing I had a Popsicle.

The Incubus concert was later, so I stopped by my mom's house to get a sundress to wear, as the temperature was steadily rising. She was still at work, so I left a note on the counter that read 'a ghost has been here. it eats apricots and steals sundresses. guess who?' and left, sundress in tow. In Camille's purple sunglasses and the dress and bare skin which hadn't seen the light of day since probably last August, I felt almost sexy, striding through the dirty AllState Arena above everyone's heads, feeling my tallness very suddenly, and the air on my skin. The concert was beautiful. His voice, the music, the drums, the bassline, the atmosphere, the twenty eight billion people smoking joints around us... together it makes for a very heady night, face tilted up, head thrown back, voice swelling with each perfect note, harmonizing. I kept my eyes closed for a long time. When I opened them, Camille would be dancing, or David would be belting out lyrics, or even Mike might be bouncing a tiny bit. Looking at the arena made it seem less than it was. My ears are welcome to do all the work.

 

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