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7.7.01 - 9:47

a picture/a scene.

she sees me walking out of the ground. that's what she sees but it isn't exactly this. i'm on an underground escalator climbing into the sunshine and the light on my hair is bright and it might look something like being (re)born.

if i were to make a list of things that i hate it would be a long list. it would include spelling errors and the incorrect use of adverbs and adjectives. it would include tuna fish in a can. it would include the band creed and amputations performed without anesthesia. it would include wars and genocide and unrequited love. it would include things big and small. petty. important. things in between.

they paved paradise and they put up a parking lot.

i was wearing a shapeless shift of a dress in army green. not nylon and not polyester and not canvas but something a little like all of these. a zipper up the front and down the front, both. it can happen. i know. a walkman and earphones shoved deep into my head and a maroon and black and maroon bag over my shoulder and blue gray white tennis shoes. ok? dark sunglasses. big. to keep people out. so she sees me. good for her.

did they stop calling vitamin c ascorbic acid? of course, you said. vitamins are good for you. but remember before we all went crazy, before we all got so sad. zantac was a big seller, so now, you see, ascorbic acid just isn't appealing to the general public.

you used to write cd reviews and keep promotional copies for yourself, this i know.

and then i was at a stoplight and the light was red and the red hand was there, not blinking, just there, saying do not cross. wait. stand there. and so i was standing there without thinking because the sun was pleasant and i could see many white buildings and fountains and i was thinking about rigo '98 without knowing his name. i was staring at the red hand when i felt another one on my shoulder, not red, a hand. this is when i first saw her, a little wrinkled old woman, glasses and pearls and support hose, the works. her lips were moving. i took one earphone out. squinted. you've got to look for cars when you're crossing the street, she muttered. i know this already. the street is clear and we begin to cross and i put the earphone back and then i feel the hand on my back and i turn around and i see her mouth in motion again.

ohmygod, you scream. i can't figure out where the hell you are and while i don't particularly care it feels like i do. if i could change things, you told me, i would. i've heard something like that before, or maybe what i heard was, i'm lonely, i'm dying, i'm so cold. i don't know. we all have these feelings sometimes and when your back is up against the wall so you can feel the outlines of the bricks through your shirt, well, you'll understand then.

you can't decide sometimes whether crying or laughing would be better suited to the situation so you choose (instead) to stare into space and bite your lower lip.

i pull the earphone out again and i don't even know why. i don't care what she's saying and i don't particularly want to know. i have felt people's judgments all afternoon as i walk by and i'm not really understanding the need to feign interest in this old woman who is crossing the street behind me. you have beautiful posture, she croaks, just beautiful. you should be proud of yourself. she laughs a small laugh and i'm thinking i should be proud of myself? for my posture? she laughs again and tells me i'm pretty. i wonder if she's ever pushed anyone into traffic. i walk up the steps and turn my head slightly and she's gone and i think she turned left.

joni mitchell said a lot of things and one of things she said was this, you're in my blood like holy wine, it tastes so bitter and so sweet.

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