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2005-05-23 - 12:52 a.m.

I went up to Delaware again, this time meeting some friends. We camped and played frisbee golf and my pants smell like woodsmoke.

DY, one minute talking about how Audis are the best cars and how "mid-range Japanese whatevers" are crap, the next minute answering his cell phone, his voice changing suddenly, saying "I love you too. What? I'm sorry, baby. I'll see you soon. I love you too." Then, ten minutes later, DY driving away in his Audi, our wood almost all burned and lots of beer in the coolers and this was all well past midnight and he had a three-hour drive to do.

Music notes:
My friend burned me a copy of an album by Razorlight and I know absolutely nothing about this band (except that they're British). I listened to it on the way home today (still no tape-player and so I listened to the Walkman with the little headphones that stick in the ears). It's good. I like it a lot. It makes me feel like I'm walking down the main drag of a county fair, new sneakers on my feet, cash (all singles) in my pocket, combed hair and smelling good, popping to the sound of the gamesters and vendors and fried-food-and-Pepsi folks from out of town.

We'd just played our second round of frisbee golf and it's much harder than it looks and the disc goes to the left no matter how I throw it. Shirts off, we're drinking a beer at noon on a Sunday and I mention I have a basketball in my trunk. So I go over to the asphalt courts (Damon calls asphalt "madacam") and shoot around a bit.

After a few minutes, Kevin came over and I said, "It's a nice day for this. Frisbee and sunglasses and sun on the shoulders. Not even hung over." And he said, without hesitation, clanging his shot off the backboard and not the rim, "It's a painfully beautiful world we live in. I think that every day. Everywhere you look, it's just staggering." And I think that thought all the time although I have a hard time saying it out loud to people. This is not exactly true. There are some people I can say this to. Kevin is one of them. So I said, "I think so, too." And then he made his shot and walked back to the cars and I followed him back after I made my last one.

Accent notes:
I said hello to many pretty girls this weekend. One of them was our waitress at the breakfast place this morning. It was called "The Lighthouse." I got creamed chipped beef (first time since I was about twelve) and everyone else got eggs benedict. She was very quiet, taking our orders, asking if everyone's coffee was good. When she left one time, I asked everyone what kind of accent they thought she had. I said Russian and Kevin said Swedish and Dickie said "hick." When she came back, Kevin asked where she was from and she said Russia. I've been coming across a lot of people from Russia lately. She's the third or fourth in a month. Also, a red-haired, pale girl from one of the slavic countries and the way she talked reminded me of the two Hungarian guys I did landscaping with two summers ago. They talked about Hungarian women all the time. And sausages and goulash (which they just call "soup" and not goulash) and also beer.

And Chuck walking around all weekend with no shoes on, instructing on the proper pronunciation of the planet in Star Wars Luke grew up on ("Tatt-eww-eeene!"), missing the girl who dumped him seven months ago, roughing his feet up pretty good on the coarse sand and the pine cones, making us all sandwiches of ridiculous Italian deli goods and then grilling his over the fire, which we doubted at first but all did because he had so much fun eating his.

And getting rained on a little but never a lot. The sun was out even with the clouds( and the moon last night, too, bright.) The sky was all colors, like a thigh bruise that doesn't hurt anyone at all.

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