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[[groovy musics: this bike is a pipe bomb, make-up]]

11:38 a.m. // 23 December 2003

Just before sunrise the other morning, Dwayne said, he woke up because I was rubbing his face up and down and up and down.

What are you doing?, he said. Checking to make sure that the blanket's not over your head, I said, according to him.

I do not remember this. I was not awake. D. does have a habit of sleeping with his head under the covers, and I don't like it because it seems unhealthy to me. So I have a habit of pulling them off his head.

Last night I dreamed I was at a Polyphon!c Spree concert in a huge auditorium. The theme of the show was "Tenths" and at the finale, a troupe of kindergarteners walked up the aisles, each holding above their heads a pair of scissors larger than themselves. Each pair of scissors was a different color, and the scissors were ten times larger than an actual pair of scissors.

I worried about the sharp edges but they were so cute I had to take photos. Then onstage was the giant paper-cutting contest...

 

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