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Feb 17, 2006 16:44

D left a message on my phone to make plans for a foreign film nite. Lily Chou Chou & Suicide Club over sushi and cherry pepsi and intelligent conversation. We call ourselves daughters of the arts. This habitual get-together was born from our mutual passion for cinematography and story. In this small little town of dull surroundings one must value and cherish these nuggets of culture. It isn’t like Incinidas and Santa Monica. There are no streets lined with art galleries and monthly film festivals. I have to settle with what fate meagerly provided.

Woke up early and snuck out of the house for a café mocha down at Popeye Seed Café. A quiet corner and Amy Tan’s newest book were the perfect companions for this over-stressed & literary deprived soul. Some stranger sat down beside me, I did not bother to ask his name. My age, dyed black hair and yellowy fingernails. He asked about the book, and I briefly explained the plot thusfar. His attempts at engaging conversation were parried by my off-hand indifference. Eventually he took the hint. Lake Orion boys have always been insipid, ambitionless potheads. I have yet to meet one who doesn’t fit this description and thus try not to encourage interaction with them.

“You are too much of an aristocrat, Miss Nicole,” grandfather always says. No, no, no. I have high standards.
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