 I love the really early evening light- 5 PMish- late in the summer- the last week of august, days that still make me nervous about getting trapped in school.  I sat on the curb running around the edge of  grass my dog was playing on yesterday evening.  It looked too bright green, too endless, as if there was a neverending field of doggie romping to be had, infinite dandilions to pull up, always another twig for him to shake around.  When I finally drove us home, I played Pulp's We Love Life, an album rapidly working its way into my heart.   I turned up the volume as loud as I could handle- it sounds better crashing between my ears and so immediate that despite trying, I  still haven't caught many of the lyrics.   In the thirteen minutes it takes me to drive back I have time for  just a little slice of the album, picking up where it left off on last night's drive, so I'm still working my way a few songs at a time through listening to it.
 I love the really early evening light- 5 PMish- late in the summer- the last week of august, days that still make me nervous about getting trapped in school.  I sat on the curb running around the edge of  grass my dog was playing on yesterday evening.  It looked too bright green, too endless, as if there was a neverending field of doggie romping to be had, infinite dandilions to pull up, always another twig for him to shake around.  When I finally drove us home, I played Pulp's We Love Life, an album rapidly working its way into my heart.   I turned up the volume as loud as I could handle- it sounds better crashing between my ears and so immediate that despite trying, I  still haven't caught many of the lyrics.   In the thirteen minutes it takes me to drive back I have time for  just a little slice of the album, picking up where it left off on last night's drive, so I'm still working my way a few songs at a time through listening to it.
Wednesday, August 28, 2002
 I love the really early evening light- 5 PMish- late in the summer- the last week of august, days that still make me nervous about getting trapped in school.  I sat on the curb running around the edge of  grass my dog was playing on yesterday evening.  It looked too bright green, too endless, as if there was a neverending field of doggie romping to be had, infinite dandilions to pull up, always another twig for him to shake around.  When I finally drove us home, I played Pulp's We Love Life, an album rapidly working its way into my heart.   I turned up the volume as loud as I could handle- it sounds better crashing between my ears and so immediate that despite trying, I  still haven't caught many of the lyrics.   In the thirteen minutes it takes me to drive back I have time for  just a little slice of the album, picking up where it left off on last night's drive, so I'm still working my way a few songs at a time through listening to it.
 I love the really early evening light- 5 PMish- late in the summer- the last week of august, days that still make me nervous about getting trapped in school.  I sat on the curb running around the edge of  grass my dog was playing on yesterday evening.  It looked too bright green, too endless, as if there was a neverending field of doggie romping to be had, infinite dandilions to pull up, always another twig for him to shake around.  When I finally drove us home, I played Pulp's We Love Life, an album rapidly working its way into my heart.   I turned up the volume as loud as I could handle- it sounds better crashing between my ears and so immediate that despite trying, I  still haven't caught many of the lyrics.   In the thirteen minutes it takes me to drive back I have time for  just a little slice of the album, picking up where it left off on last night's drive, so I'm still working my way a few songs at a time through listening to it.
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