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2003-01-30 - 1:44 p.m.

'i may be the ice man, but i only have ice for you'

So I dreamed of the boy in Texas last night. And my only real excuse for that is that a drugged mind will dream whatever it wants. Tylenol p.m. always takes me to this strange state of dreaming, where the dreams feel too real. It's all too tangible. Like instead of just cloudy images of making out with him or a flash of his eyebrow, I saw everything. I lived it. And then when that was done, it kept going.

We ate old Chinese food out the carton and talked about music. I bitched about Ben Harper and he told me he ever understood Liz Phair. And we joked that I had probably given him a hickey.

And it wasn't like a dream at all. Because dreams usually end somewhere in the middle of the good stuff, not so much later. But, then I guess when I was with him, everything was the good stuff. Sitting on the floor in his living room eating bad food out of styrofoam containers and watching terrible reality tv shows. Padding around his apartment all barefooted talking about books. Or watching him play pool. All hum-drum. And all fabulous. All of it.

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all written material � jordorange 2003-2004

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