and it is almost autumn

This is the thing about leaving a place: the longer you've been gone, the more difficult it becomes to remember it--really remember it. This probably seems obvious, but the last time I went somewhere new, the reverse was true. Home, in some incarnation (just-baked bread, the curve of these hills, fog you can't see through) was all I could think about. Even then, though, it was a called-up home, a home I half constructed myself. Isn't it weird, that creationary aspect of memory? I've always been too imaginative for my own good, and that kind of invention lends itself well to nostalgia. But this time feels different. 

Maybe I'm just not trying hard enough, thinking of life in New York often enough, and I guess that is partly the point. There are so many new things to think about here. Money spending is a biggie. I've begun to mentally file potential purchases into one of three categories: Things I Need (laundry detergent, coffee filters), Things I Think I Need But Actually Don't (five avocados, right now), and Things I Really Don't Need at All (butter lettuce seeds, the "San Francisco" refrigerator poem magnet set that goes for $22.50 at Just For Fun). Surplus cash goes into the doggy piggy bank on my desk (a hand-me-down from Nora), but there isn't very much of that right now, so the poem magnets will have to wait.

In other and less moody news: I went to the 49ers game today. At the beginning, when all of the players were running out, there was a small explosion with fireworks every time the announcer called a name. It was all very dramatic.

The guy sitting in the seat behind us drank a lot of beer and asked if he could marry me. Ellen said that would be O.K. if he could bring one thousand Obama votes to the table. It felt like some kind of reverse dowry. I was wearing the black stickers they give out that you are supposed to put underneath your eyes to look like face paint, and now I have a sunburn around the edges of both rectangles.

And: finally/most importantly/et cetera, I am becoming inexplicably attracted to guys with tattoos on their arms. I prefer one to three well-placed, individual designs to the full sleeve variety.

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