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no room for hipsters

the occupation of Ashley and Levon

This morning I ran past the secretaries and dove into my cubicle, saying good morning once I was safe from anyone looking at my face.  I think I can make it the next month with no embarrassments if I look down or slightly to the left when I talk to people, not that I care, right?  Yesterday was my big 2-7 and for the first time in my life I spent it outside, in short sleeves, and never had a melancholy episode of winter dreariness invading my self reflection. 

I did do some thinking.  First of all I don’t like the word blog so this is no longer a blog and I am not a blogger.  This is an online memoir installment page, and there is no descriptive noun for such a writer.  But that’s a little bit wordy so we can call it a blog until I think of something better.

I did think of some things with more substance, too.  Having a birthday in February is a good time to restart resolutions you began on New Years and have already abandoned.  I usually take that train of thought but realized I had changed my mind on them for good reasons or not made any, I couldn’t remember.  Instead, we took a long walk around downtown Knoxville, talking about the last three years and how we’re going to take these walks everyday in New York a month from now. 

I still have a lot of scrap wood left from my renovation projects.  Ironically, HGTV aired our show last night while I was outside sitting around a fire burning the walls I busted out.  Some good friends came by.  It was kind of a Guatemalan cigar/ Miller Light sort of night. 

I’m dying for a second cup of coffee but I’m afraid to leave my cave.  Pitiful.


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