A meme, yes, I try to avoid them but I do get sucked in from time to time. I thought this would be a nice one for a group that's heavily larded w/ writers
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I almost always hate them (even though my experience w/ this sort of internet world is rather short. But I'll admit that the quixotic nature of this one rather piqued my curiosity.
I remember the time I was sitting in a coffee shop, reading a letter from a friend overseas. The kind people don’t write any more, on thin onionskin paper to save postage. Perhaps they still make that, and it’s simply that everyone emails now. You walked by and I banged on the window excitedly, causing the people at the next table to spill their drinks. You turned, but all I got was a blank stare. I suppose all you saw was your own reflection in the window.
we went ice skating that one time? I don't remember who's idea it was, especially since we were both as clumsy on the ice as we were with planning. It's never been a strong point. Not to mention the fact that it was one of the coldest days that year! We must have been insane, or at least on the edge of extreme boredom
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distillationselflesslustApril 27 2004, 09:46:48 UTC
One of the things that most confuses me in the taint of night is the forbearance of shadows and angels who prefer to hide within such unstable clouds. Drowning in a moment of unsure steps, I felt my way through the night slipping amid the crowds of people who had need for one and another, laughing with life
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Nowhere near as good as yours, but I have to work sometime....505247April 27 2004, 12:30:20 UTC
A dozen of us were supposed to go to New York for that Guggenheim exhibit. We’d been arranging it for a good ten days, emails fluttering back and forth until I wanted to scream at yet another “reply all.” Nobody showed but the two of us. Standing in the parking lot, it took us about 7 minutes to go through all of the stages - shock, bargaining, anger, acceptance, and the like. Then you shrugged your shoulders dramatically and asked if I wanted you to drive to the train station
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I still can't believe you did it, Alex. Every time I think back, it gives me chills. You just freaked. Maybe the guy was a little out of line. I can agree with that. But he didn't deserve that. Not just for talking trash when he'd had a bit too much to drink. But you didn't even stop and consider the circumstances. Hell, I'm not even sure you were capable of rational thought. I swear your eyes turned red and it looked like your jugular was about to burst. If life were like the cartoons, steam would have been coming out of your ears
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I remember the time when you were, what - 12? 13? We were up waaaay too late and getting high off overtiredness and processed sugar. At one point, I burst out laughing at your mom’s can of “niblets” and you had to gag me with an oven mitt. Then you put a Cheeto between your nose and upper lip and marched around the room like Charlie Chaplin in the Great Dictator. Finally, we snuck out into the yard and sat in your old rickety tree fort until it started to get light, huddled under windbreakers that only seemed to hold in the chill. I’ve never told anyone what you whispered to me that night. It doesn’t seem like such a secret now, of course, but I crossed my heart and hoped to die, and I’d like to think that still means something.
I remember the smell of your hair when you stood in front of me in the queue for the movie. I bent to sniff the bare nape of your neck. You didn't move, or even know I was there.
I saw you in the museum. I noticed you because your little girl was hopping up and down the stairs in front of the Chagall mural. Up two, down one, up two, down one, with no sign of tiring. I remember thinking, with what now seems a treacly excess of emotion, that I’d been exhibiting quite a bit less verve and pizzazz in my pointless activities. But as I passed, coast still buttoned tight against my throat, I looked at the bright yellow Russian sun. I caught your eye, jumped ahead two steps, and then kept going.
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I almost always hate them (even though my experience w/ this sort of internet world is rather short. But I'll admit that the quixotic nature of this one rather piqued my curiosity.
I remember the time I was sitting in a coffee shop, reading a letter from a friend overseas. The kind people don’t write any more, on thin onionskin paper to save postage. Perhaps they still make that, and it’s simply that everyone emails now. You walked by and I banged on the window excitedly, causing the people at the next table to spill their drinks. You turned, but all I got was a blank stare. I suppose all you saw was your own reflection in the window.
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we went ice skating that one time? I don't remember who's idea it was, especially since we were both as clumsy on the ice as we were with planning. It's never been a strong point. Not to mention the fact that it was one of the coldest days that year! We must have been insane, or at least on the edge of extreme boredom ( ... )
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bravo.
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I'm glad you didn't tell anyone that I really wanted to be a woman when I grow up.
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Well, your childhood secret isn’t such a secret any more. But I’m still honored you trusted me w/ it.
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when you stood in front of me in the queue
for the movie. I bent to sniff the bare
nape of your neck. You didn't move,
or even know I was there.
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I saw you in the museum. I noticed you because your little girl was hopping up and down the stairs in front of the Chagall mural. Up two, down one, up two, down one, with no sign of tiring. I remember thinking, with what now seems a treacly excess of emotion, that I’d been exhibiting quite a bit less verve and pizzazz in my pointless activities. But as I passed, coast still buttoned tight against my throat, I looked at the bright yellow Russian sun. I caught your eye, jumped ahead two steps, and then kept going.
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(and yeah.)
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