The first time I ever felt love outside of the familiar sense was when I got upset and leaned over to get something on the other end of a desk and my friend kissed my elbow and that was alright. It was strange because it was the first time anyone had really kissed me and I know it doesn’t count because of context and all, but I count it, mostly secretly and sometimes. I was 16 years old. I wasn’t kissed by a fella let alone kissed kissed until later and that is alright now but wasn’t then.

I spent a lot of my time at Saturday’s zine fest in a daze having slept an hour the night before and walking slowly, missing the Anne Elizabeth Moore thing I had interest in. I’m Cambodian! And a grrrl! And you think lady politics is fucked in America! But I probably would’ve fallen asleep if Stefan and I didn’t spend a lot of time walking indoors and outdoors. When I walked to my table in the corner that morning, I saw folks I knew and anxiety slipped away so fast when I got to sit next to them and that was alright too. I unpacked my bags and I didn’t bring a whole stack. It was fine. I traded a mini-comic for some things I loved and traded for some things that I don’t love less but that’s lying, I sort of do love them less, sorry. You can’t say no. It seems like poor etiquette to. The raw milk was a surprise. lol @ Cometbus but I still read it so whatever. I don’t have pictures because the sunscreen I spilled all over my phone last summer finally fogged up the camera portion and everything looked like glamor shots. How embarrassing. How can anyone take me seriously if my pictures are like that. I’ve been having great times lately. I am still a sadsack at heart, don’t worry. My stomach hurts. I ate too much. Has my writing been ruined by school? The best thing I saw afterwards but not during was Unicorn Whorez and Dragon Slutz or whatever. I liked that and laughed. This Monday was terrible but fine. I won’t remember it.