2005-07-13 - 12:59 a.m.
Milling around my bedroom a bit later, I heard "Hey Rachael!" hollered, and I dove over my bed and onto my roof, which I will now refer to as my own porch. If you need me, call out and I will come from my window and let you in.
It was Rebecca, and we walked to the pizza place. The man gave us two slices when we asked for one, and there is a public piano to play at Vinnie's. Repeatedly, I played the first lilts of Claire de Lune.
Rebecca wants to take pictures of her friends with their faces altered. She wants Zac to be bronzed with powder over his translucent face, as for me she put me in flamboyant colored eye makeup, which is a style I am prone to disliking very much. I will say that Rebecca has an artful hand with make-up, but my face can't handle the heat. I'm just saying, I look like an aged prostitute in some of these photographs. It doesn't help that I am propped on what looks like a hotel bed, and I am wearing a bra too large which I am stuffing and unstuffing. It was good. Tomorrow I will do it to her, but she will fill it out.
The plan is that I will ask my dad to bring me a pocket-knife for the family reunion in a couple of weeks. We will whittle like idiots. I just remembered that I had always had dibs on a particular knife. Rebecca told me tonight that I am an artist, she often gives me renewed hope in myself. Little Paper friend, if you read this far, I will call you tomorrow. I am sorry you are in a Hostel.
Fox and Hound