[3:32 p.m.] : [2013-01-19]

I read this one last night when I started this posting of old handwritten stuff and as I've thought about it since I just really want to be up front and say here and now that I am sorry for the last line. I really don't know what I must have been thinking at the time, I should really have known better. Again, I'm sorry.

On I-10 between Houston and the Bay we'd stop for gas or just out of boredom at roadside attractions. One after another all the way to and from California. At everyone we'd look at the novelties, try on sunglasses, make fun of postcards, and we would inevitably get to the mood rings.

Sometime around the start of the trip I'd told her that I still loved her. She said simply, "Prove it."

The first truck stop we hit she slipped a ring on and it turned red. Stress. She was worried the work back at the studio wasn't going to get finished or she was missing out or forgetting about something somewhere else. She was entirely unable to just enjoy where she was at, the open road, it's freedom up ahead.

I put a ring on my finger. Green. I looked at the color key. Blue - Relaxed. Red - Stressed. Black - Sad. Green - Love. Scientific proof, she thought it was a fluke.

Four thousand miles in a week and a half on the road. San Antonio, Tucson, Salinas, Phoenix, El Paso, Los Angeles, San Francisco; over a dozen stops in over a dozen cities in half a dozen states and cheap plastic novelty ring after cheap plastic novelty ring would tell the same truth. I was in love.

She seemed unconvinced. Maybe she was just unimpressed. I could say it, write it, build it into mix tapes, and crudely drawn comics. I could move half way across the country. All trying just to prove that all those two dollar rings weren't a bunch of dirty liers after all. It didn't matter, any of it, it was spelled out and color coated on the key but she couldn't read the results. It was like she was color blind to my heart.

...yeah, I know ...I know and I already said I was sorry, that last line is bad, and as painful as it is to admit I wrote it I should at least be as honest as I can transcribing these things. Like most everything else that has come before, even if I'm not a fan of a thing (event or out come or whatever) I have no intentions of rewriting the past. I'm here to document things that happened.

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