Wednesday, July 10, 2002

This morning on the bus-- No gropping at all, but the same woman as evening busride taking notes on one sheet of paper about the book she is reading. Different book today, F Scott Fitzgerald. How does one only need one small sheet of note paper for notation on reading?
A woman with no arms. How did she pay? How did she get into that cute punk rock/ alterna-hipster outfit? Who put on her cattail eyeliner and red lipstick? Where did she get those awesome highlights with black streaks?

In the bathroom this morning, she told him how her whole life, she had coincedentally soley been friends with straight haired people. All of my friends come from broken homes, he thought. Yes, I fought for straight hair, and they never understood all of the products I used, all of the care with frizz and fly-aways. My deep fear of surprise rain storms. Now its curly all the time and I only fear humidity.