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8:31 p.m. - December 18, 2002
Live, Christmas Eve, a reprise by special request
The mall wasn't terrible and I stayed an hour and I'm malled-out. Was thinking how pernicious chain-stores are, especially Pottery Barn, and how few unique enterprises are found in shopping centers. The more we look alike, shop alike, talk alike, and are alike, the easier it is to stop thinking and conjure all the images you want, from Metropolis to Animal Farm because they fit. I can't imagine doing Christmas shopping in a mall, but then it's not as if I handmake my own gifts (heh... that'd be kind of funny). Since I'm in the Christmas spirit this year and it hit early, I've had the time and inclination to search. I located handmade soaps from a purveyor based in Vermont for my sister's stocking, snow boots from Maine for my brother (true, he lives in San Diego, but he's a weekend snow-boarder); essentially things one is not going to find on every corner. I wonder what my Christmases would look like without the web. Eh. There's no need to wonder because we know what they'd be like: Gift certificates galore.

So that was the mall. Ran into an acquaintance who told me Dana is back from the east coast and had inquired into me, and the acquaintance said she's beautiful and I should visit. I smiled and moved on, embarrassed. I haven't talked to Dana since we broke up and frankly, can't imagine how to begin a conversation with her. That's kind of sad, isn't it? I've never been one who's friends with former relationshipees. Maybe it would be as awkward as each time I run into her mother or father, but it's bearable. And I find I'm the one who is awkward, not them and in fact the last time I saw her father (my former pastor, remember?) he was happy to see me and caught me up in a bear-hug; though I also recall running into her mother at Safeway and wishing I could duck inside one of the units on the frozen-food aisle. In other words, I'll avoid.

Tomorrow I work in Berkeley and will go to Moe's and Cody's to replentish my To Read shelf. Walk along Telegraph Avenue, watch people. Should be fun.


Agency asked me to do the same Christmas Eve project I did last year. I didn't reply yes or no and caught Wendy by surprise because she expected I'd do each performance. You know, last year I was afraid to say what exactly it was and I still am; I remember when Shannon and I went to the agency party someone mentioned how well I did at the performance and I blushed and hurried her away as fast as I could. How silly. At this time last year I was afraid F A G would appear on my forehead, that somehow people would find out about Spec. So much has changed but not really. Eh. It's [deleted]. There, I said it. And I'm blushing. Jesus. Delete is my friend. Damn. How immature, insecure. Still. [A few minutes later] It's here; big whoop.


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