2001-08-10 & 5:43 p.m. : license plates, not personalized
listening to the radio station 'joan of arc' by l cohen starts playing, and i am reading a new diary and i suddenly have a momentary rush of new life that goes from the top of me all the way to my toes.
listening to the radio station 'joan of arc' by l cohen starts playing, and i am reading a new diary and i suddenly have a momentary rush of new life that goes from the top of me all the way to my toes.
and suddenly the end of summer is wildly romantic, but not in the sad longing way it was last night, but in a sweet and soft way.
friday nights always have the most possibility.
someone come and take me out, we can drive up fish ranch road and watch the bay turn navy blue, and the cars drive across the bay bridge, and we can talk about history and music and the people that we know and the stupid things we have done and all the fun things that we love.
we can drive down into san francisco or to the train yards in west oakland, or we could just ride the bart line up and down the bay. there's always tons of people to see, and new smells and laughter to be had.
tonight, we could do things that stories are made of.
