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August 8th, 2004

glow

bury me in it.

When we left the party, a round of Rainier group shotgunning had just ended, and it was clear to me that I didn't have it in me to catch up if I stayed. In my worldview, intoxication is best left to chance. The party was for Chris's going away in about a week and was in the loft at the Rendezvous. Most of the new Modest Mouse CD had played on the jukebox (strangely battling with different music from other parts of the club) and I spent the whole party catching up with Al, Malinda, and Geoff, who offered to give me a ride home.

While I felt a twinge of guilt at leaving earlyish, I just don't have the networking instinct to meet and greet when the likelihood of seeing people again, let alone remembering names, seems functionally small.
chair, apartment

sun, whatever

Despite the perfect summer weather, I didn't do anything especially summery except for walking downtown, getting a haircut, and not buying things. This turned out to be a good decision, the walking, because the plaza by Westlake Center was filled with people doing some variation of square dancing. Which, I guess you don't see every day.

Twice today I fell asleep on the couch while Condoleezza Rice talked to Tim Russert on the television.