04 march 2003.

some people go to cancun for spring break. i go to wilkes-barre.

it's been mostly catching up with high school aquaintences and excessively cleaning my room. i get dressed up just to go to the bookstore where i write letters, steal magazines, and make small talk with the locals. last night a man peered over his newspaper at me and after a few seconds said, "you look like you should be on the set of Bye Bye Birdie, or Grease, or something" and i laugh and think about the summer when dylan and i walked through the brick streets of upstate new york and heard things like that every few hours. its late, and no ones in the music section so sharon and i sit on the countertops and she flips through fashion magazines. we notice the similar haircuts of every model and i note "apparantly 'mod' is the new 'emo', or whatever" and we exchange looks of apprehension.

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