It's all better though. Yesterday, poetry guy with stress and friends sleeping in a van from whom we purchased 3 poems handwritten on crinkly rain sheets. Marina and Zach in person with real faces instead of pixels. Sleep. And this morning Jeff and I navigated the streets with no iphone as preferred by us both; we asked a gas station man with an Indian accent for directions, but he didn't really know the difference between right and left unfortunately, or he might just have gotten them mixed up like people sometimes do. We've been in the Backspace cafe about nine times combining these two days, the beard guy with the mega gages always smiles when we walk in. Worked for 15 minutes at Sisters of the Road washing windows and wiping fridge doors to be handed a meal ticket which we didn't need since we were new. There was gritty cornbread and many beans, and loudness, and crowdedness. I knew what it was like then, at least a little bit. We gave our tickets away since we didn't need them. Now: pouring rain and leaves as we're waiting to go to Sociology class. This day's been better than yesterday. Now that I don't care about blogging I can write a stream of consciousness and not care how it sounds. The coffee girl said I have beautiful hair, which is ironic because I haven't washed it since Friday night. I want a shower shower. There's a rain shower out right now but that's not exactly what I mean. Or maybe it is. I don't know. There was more stuff that happened but I don't feel like talking about it, it's not on my mind really. What is is that one of the guys at Sisters of the Road reminded me of my dad, in the way that there was a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and he moved in a similar way as my dad. And when he needed to cut through the crowd he said "Excuse me" in the same way as my dad. I wonder if his name's Randy. That would be odd. Here, now I've written an entire thick block of a paragraph, i guess I'm done blogging!
Swimmingly,
Amber