20 July 2005

for tat

Peetie and I went to the Cake concert last night, me in chipped hot pink glitter nail polish and borrowed jeans, looking like a cross between a beach bum and an unwashed street urchin. The band was everything they should have been, plus two hours late. The drinks were strong and the crowd not too annoying, but that might have been because we hung over the railing on the stairs so we could see over everyone.

It's been a month since I watched the news, save for an hour or so during the London bombings (falling down, falling down, my fair lady). It's been a month or so since I actually cared about what people thought of me or even about a single word that comes out of their mouths. It's so Zen it's ridiculous. I wore the same shirt every day last week. It wasn't a Sylvia Plath pre-hospitalization move and I promise I wash my hair every day, but it just seemed so beside the point.

The remarkable thing is, I hope this lasts a while. I hate getting sucked into the local gossip, who's screwing who, who's doing what to whom. No diversions, please. But leave the Harry Potter. If I could just not have to look at anyone again for a while, that would be great.

betholindo at 13:13

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