3.17.2002

well life is not the same when i'm not around, is it?
we drive up the shore at dusk, put up our tent and promptly fell asleep.
i awake before the sun does (before anyone else does) and find myself alone in the car, book open halfway. eyes droop yet again so i sleep. the sun never did come out. the whole time we were there the sky dripped with fog and humidity. but we are happy with feet in the sand and recoiling from cold waves. walking the beach with sandy feet and worn in blue jeans, hoodie zipped up noticing fallen monarchs and white moths with orange speckles on their thorax, tiny winged shells and gelatenous jelly fish. the water foams as it approaches its' receding. and jessica and i whisper in a nylon cloud. i dunno, raver gossip and party stories crack me up to no end. i love that girl. who else would spend four beach trips creating interpretive dances like "the crab" and "the wind" and "buxom beach babe". something about the flailing about of limbs in a flashlight spotlight while the sky trickles down in tiny sprinkles. we giggle because we look dumb and boys try to pick us up near the port-a-potty. hot pink frisbee until we hop in the car again. lovely.
currently spinning: roots manuva: strange behavior