but first... yesterday i decided to walk to downtown and take lots of pictures. we used to do stuff like that on acid (long walks/photos) and amazing things would happen, and i always wondered if those things would happen without the acid. that's not why i left yesterday, but that occurred to me en route.

the first thing that happened was that i was walking by ladd's circle and andy appeared out of some truck yelling "becky!" (seems to happen a lot these days) and we stood and talked for about a half an hour. i haven't seen him forever. it was nice. he told me to be pure.

then i kept walking, through one of the rose gardens and pretty neighborhoods, through the industrial stuff and the hot sun, and across the hawthorne bridge. that's a loooong bridge. bicycles kept almost hitting me when i stopped to take pictures of the structure. i walked along the waterfront and through downtown to powell's, where i revived in the air conditioning and read magazines. i bought a book, "always coming home," because wateryone, my diaryland crush, is always talking about it. i don't have time to start more books now, but i am so idealistic.

while i was sitting in the coffee room i saw this pretty little girl, about 4 years old, wearing a red dress and a messy ponytail down to her waist, and i couldn't help smiling, and she turned around and smiled at me, and then we were both sitting there, grinning and giggling at each other, and she started dancing, twirling around holding her brother's hand, and turning back every twirl to smile at me more.

then i walked to pioneer square and took a picture of the light rail. i walked across the square and when i was walking up the stairs, this street kid asked me for change, but i'd already given my change to other people. he asked me what i was taking pictures of, and suggested i take pictures of the cops lurking all over the place. i sat down on the steps and he sat and talked to me for a while. he invited me to hop a train to eugene today but i said i had too much stuff to do. he was only 16, from idaho, said the dirt protected him, and stressed that he was a tramp and not a hobo. he said he sleeps under the bridge, and i told him he could stay in donna's room for a night since we live closer to the train yard.

we walked around downtown for a long time. he showed me the hippie camp, and we went to the waterfront so he could buy pot. i saw all the mexicans we used to buy dope from. then we took a bus to my house. i stupidly smoked some of the pot (i hate pot unless i'm alone) and we hung out with c. and his dealer. the pot made me feel all icky and i swear i'm never doing it again. the kid turned out to be a lot less interesting than i'd expected.. i guess i've never spent an extended period of time with a street kid. and he is younger than my brother. he played me a bunch of sucky music and told me about riding trains. he and c. did some dope in front of me and once again, i felt no desire to do it with them. instead, i was really glad to not be doing it. the pot was giving me enough trouble. i went to sleep around midnight, and woke up at 3 when donna showed up.

and now i quote from my 15 year old diary, a passage located for this occasion:
"i'm waiting for gabe at the walker [art museum]. i was late, so i asked the people, 'did you see someone who looked like he was looking for me?' they didn't know. so i'm waiting. i was watching for him down the street from the parking lot, searching for someone in a long coat with his hair and everything when i realized that these things never turn out the way you think they're going to. he'll probably be coming from a different direction, or walk on the other side of the street where i can't see him, or not be wearing the coat-- or else he's already here, looking for me. it reminds me of the end of "a separate peace" when gene talks about building up defenses against your enemy, but he won't attack that way at all. if he attacks, if he is indeed your enemy." [am i implying that gabe is my enemy?]

so donna came. she came! but all i could feel was overwhelming sadness as i talked to her. maybe because i haven't seen her in so long. and she's going to leave again in a few days. but we stayed up until 7 talking and it was good although i couldn't stop thinking about shooting myself, don't ask me why. i'm glad i don't have a gun. i've never felt so suicidal before.

then we went to sleep in my bed because street kid was sleeping in her room. she's still asleep. and i always feel better in the morning. actually, i still felt awful when i woke up, but i said, i'll just have my breakfast ritual and not think about anything, so i did, and now i feel better. also, i lost 6 pounds in 5 days, since i got here. is that even possible? all i did was take walks and eat what i normally eat when i'm here. donna and i are going to go to juniors when she wakes up. oh, portland...

i need some stability. consistency is all i ask. immortality is all i seek.*

donna and i have the same length hair now. hers got shorter; mine got longer. like a compromise. maybe we can find a middle ground. california/portland. school/not school. each one seems equally appealing and horrifying. the only thing i can say is good right now is that i'm clean. and i'm in portland. i guess that's two things. "i am the thing that goes on."

while i was spell checking this (yes, i am a nerd), it told me that "is that even possible?" is a non-standard question. fuck.

good morning.