first day or maybe the second day. santa cruz, ca.

time is doing that thing where its linear progression seems the same as ever but as soon as each moment fuzzes into the past, it gets stored elsewhere in my memory. in no particular order:

i met a girl in the bathroom at the beach. her jeans were wet from the sea. she got in a cubicle and asked me to dry them for her on the hand dryer. i accepted her request.

frozen yogurt. low fi. driving. sunshine.

i took a nap and woke up hallucinating in the afternoon: the entire room was shimmering and flashing various shades of gold

five minutes after leaving the house i meet a homeless and crazy man who twitches and talks and lies. lies lies lies. im laughing and nervous and unable to get away. it reminded me of the time i got chased by a pirate tramp in downtown Osaka when i was 19. except not as scary. it reminded me of how fucking vunerable i am. that being a woman is sometimes the saddest and most upsetting aspect of my life. that i, to others, am simply a piece of walking and talking flesh. and i feel too weak to stand up for myself.

That specific feeling that i know so well, to be dropped into another life; falling towards it, splashing to the concrete like a tear and yet be expected to hit the ground running. but i can't run, not yet.