06.08.2002 | 11:11 p.m.
call me a snob but I care about this stuff.

Surrounded by masses of colour and cloth that sing along to some song about underwear, some song I thankfully don't recognise. Fragmented sentences flow through my consciousness,none staying too long. I stare purposelessly at the overweight girl on the next table. She's feeding her boyfriend salad. He opens his mouth wide,and the doused lettuce falls on his lap. Everyone at our table laughs. They notice too much. My freshly washed hair is curly today and they noticed. My black shirt is a little too tight and they noticed that too. K pulls up one side of the ruffled sleeve to cover my bra strap. Very discreet. Very very smooth.

"My sister wants to kill you. You made her rent Ghost World and it was boring as hell. Now her friends won't pay her for it."

Yeah,maybe I should've recommended of those fucking Jennifer Aniston movies to her. I just thought at 22 she'd like something....different. I wish I had said that.

"I didn't make her to do anything. I loved it. She asked me to recommend something and I did."

"Yeah well. Thora Birch is a heifer anyway."

The rest of the conversation is sweetened by brownies and ice-cream. My teeth hurt,but I continue eating. In 3 months time,they will all be rotten.

Deja fucking vu. Thankfully, more than 2/3rd of those three months are over.

deja vu? | jamais vu?