Upsetting
Saturday, November 16, 2002
  SAN DIEGO
Today it is warm. Again.
My pants are cotton. So is the white undershirt I am wearing. I believe there is some cotton in my socks, too. My shoes are black, like my pants.
If I took off the 50/50 short-sleeve thrift shirt I have buttoned over the undershirt, I would look like a waiter or bartender just off work. My jacket is black, too.

I don’t know anything about women’s clothes, and that’s not a good trait in a man.
Allison is wearing a dark-blue skirt, a white t-shirt that clings to her ribs, and a short dark jacket. I can’t see them but I know her toes are painted red. She smokes Nat Sherman’s. The kind in the brown box.

Some San Diego music is on the stereo system. I think it’s Black Heart Procession, but I’m not sure. It could be something else. Earlier they were playing some Greyboy stuff I liked.
Somebody spent a fair penny on this system.
 
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