15:16 - November 10, 2002
on fire
Outside it looks a little like it does at the top of this page, that is, if my image server hasn't crashed. The snow is all melted and it's at least a dry Colorado 70 with the winter trees looking all naked without their leaves, which nobody had time to rake before the snow came down in a huge rude unannounced flump and then melted away three days later.

Last night we went to the Boulder Cafe and I was the only one eating, which struck me as very very wrong; they have calamari! with chili marmalade! and chai! and chocolate fondue! and mussels in lemon butter sauce! and salmon/bacon sandwiches on focaccia! What is wrong with the world today, or namely just Nick and Camille ('I just ate!' 'I don't feel well!') Get real. I ate way past my fill and was grinning and satisfied the rest of the night. Plus I learned where the Hop bus goes: nowhere useful.

hAD A DREAM...oops, caps lock... that I had left all my things in the boys' locker room, and my dad wouldn't leave until I had retrieved them. However, the school was busy blowing up, and the only safe place was.. well, somewhere.. but it wasn't the boys' locker room. Fetching my fuzzy sweater was not worth, inevitably, catching on fire, so I dashed up the stairwell to the pool, which was full of people currently or previously on fire, screaming and waving underwear and crayons and jackknives; some playing Marco Polo as a dignified final gesture. Outside the dream Camille's phone was ringing something syncopated in C major, and Creepy Steve was somewhere bragging about something, which might have happened two nights ago but I'm not sure. Creepy Steve was in the dreampool and out in the nondreamroom, which confused me enough to wake fully up, sitting up ramrod straight in bed, watching Camille sleepily beat her phone into silent submission.

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