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March 25 1998, Wednesday

I

  was a little monk in my room most of the day. About the only thing interesting beyond my little world was Wilbur the Cockatiel's near-mastery of the six signature notes of the wicked witch music in the Wizard of Oz.

In the evening, Jessika and I went on a long walk to track down a six pack of 12 ounce Mickey's Big Mouths. It was her idea; she has a nostalgic fondness for that particular brew; she and I used to drink it all the time in the post-Big Fun days. But we couldn't find it at any of the three nearby convenience stores. I guess most people want those 32 ounce bottles, even though drinking out of such large bottles always means that the last quarter of the bottle is vaguely disgusting with warm flatness.

On the way back from the farthest store, the Fontaine Street Amoco, we searched through a number of dumpsters. In the process Jessika scored a case of used restaurant candles (complete with red glass enclosures). We discovered a stuffed animal factory near the Old Dominion Chicken place, but its dumpster only contained one critter, a big purple mouse bleeding white styrofoam blood from a gash in its neck.

Morgan Anarchy came over again in the evening, but he didn't do anything especially interesting.

I

n the evening essika and Deya went off to a dinner at Peggy's place on Carter's Mountain. I'd been intending to come along, but I decided at the last minute to use the time instead for my own personal purposes. It would be nice not to hang around the same people all the time, but short of new or improved friendships, I'm more happy sometimes just being by myself. At least Jessika doesn't force me to make up excuses like she used to.


Thanks to all the people who wrote kind email regarding my experience on the 21st.

one year ago
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