It’s all the things I think to write down.

I was biking up Cecil B with my friends Caro and Stan when this woman shouted at us–“Michael Jackson’s dead!”

We didn’t know what to think. I sat with Caro on the bus for 45 minutes as we headed up to Germantown. Some people were talking about it in front of us. We were exhausted and sweaty. It turned out to be true. So long, Michael! Some people seem like they’ll never die, but keep going on and on into a strange eternity.

Thinking: chicken wings. No no.

About to read: Race and the Avant Garde by Timothy Yu. Waiting for Chris and Melanie to show up. Concocted some sangria with cinnamon sticks and vanilla bean.

Foot status: heels still hurt. Grrrrr.

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