You wake up and you still smell bonfire on your skin. Jenny leaves for work and you don't want to leave her bed. You lounge until 10ish and decide to get the walk over with, wishing you could just summon your bike like a magic carpet, but at least you have your camera so that makes the walk more fun. You happen across garden hoses and horse carriages and decrepit signage and pretty flowers and chalk drawings and peeling paint and imported metal poles and artful graffiti and wheel-locked Cherokees. And after you get home, you take a power nap and a shower and get ready for work. Act excited. Serve coffee. Close at seven. Paul comes by with a green gift and a hand-me-down Macbook that needs a new hard drive (thank you, Paul!). Next it's dinner at Hot Italian with Kirsten. You take a few minutes to get comfortable, plus two beers and a vicodin, and the pumpkin pizza with goat cheese is delectable. She's doing alright. Spending more time in San Francisco, doing her best to push through April (the month her mom passed) without an emotional breakdown, and otherwise moving along nicely. She donates her pepper spray and heads off to Golden Bear after dinner. You hurry across Midtown to Jenny's apartment to catch the tail-end of a strawberry shortcake party with Jenn, Ashley and Julie. No lie, it's delicious. Everyone leaves a few minutes later and you spend the night getting a little stoned with Jenny and watching This American Life, and the theme is "Going Down In History," and you're all the more grateful to have this blog, to have these memories recorded, because we might not all make big changes in the world, we might not have our names written in textbooks, but at the very least you've recorded a life, your life, the lives of those around you, and that is an equally important kind of history that might not make a difference to many, but it'll make a difference to you.
- Left to Fry
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