outwait outrun outwit


an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: profile


At Heathrow, I got so mad, I squeezed my coffee cup until the lid popped off, and French roast splashed on my black jeans.


An American couple argued behind me, about euros and pounds and dollars. Infectious sense, that of cents, a second for a cent, an hour of togetherness for this much, relationships subjected to a floating exchange rate.


I returned from my journey to California with several resolutions, among them the high possibility that I'll retire this diary after I reach entry number 999. It's been a long time, nearly 10 years, and I'm ready for new fields.


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