i'll need to upload these pictures.
there really aren't many. there are two. neither are presently in picture state. i guess i should start over.
i need to take pictures of these things and get them on here.
these things consist of a note and my notes. neither are momentous but i feel like it adds a little bit more when i've got some visuals. especially after dates 3 and 5 provided so much at which to look.
i met nate [nathan/nate? crinkling my face at the realization that when meeting someone in this way you only get their name once. you commit it to memory in one way and you don't really consider that they might prefer an alternative. in this case i'm going by the closing of an email. in another instance i was basing it on an email address. but with me...i guess when it comes to me...i just assume everyone knows my name and how i say it. of note: it's cara. "ca-" like one might say "cat" and "-ra" like "she-ra." it isn't like "car" or "star" or anything. also interesting: it's more like "cat" and "calliope" than "care" or "carbon." the "-ra" is hard to screw up. the "-ra" in "hard," i almost typed...but there is no "-ra" in hard. there's an "-ar-." moot point.
regardless/irregardless (the oed allows both despite my beliefs)] at mama's vegetarian at 20th and chestnut or something. this was the first time i'd had falafel, as far as i'm aware. it's strange because i know i've been offered it and have feigned tastings. this has not happened with rhubarb pie as some are wont to believe. i have in fact tasted rhubarb pie. the taste and texture of falafel was strangely familiar to me. i didn't not enjoy it, that's the certain decision. and i'm likely to try it again. good job, self, for trying! great job, nate, for putting me in that position!!
i excused myself to the restroom almost immediately because i noticed that you had to sort of go behind the counter. i've got this childish problem where i love getting behind counters at establishments at every opportunity. i've accidentally tended bars. i've served food when allowed. last month i assisted in the booking of rental cars at the airport enterprise location. if i can dish out slices of pizza i am ON IT. the chance to chop wood on 2nd at fairmount was like a dream. i wanted so badly to plate bbq/jerk chicken. (go there some night and try the banana bbq sauce. do yourself that favor.) i'm going to add a link to that at some point but this here isn't my computer so i'm keeping things brief. i'm attempting to keep thing brief. i'm failing miserably.
post-dinner...
forget it. i can't do this right now.
things to tell you about: the iron bitch. a purple house? ! more envy and admiration than i should admit.
all around: good night. less like a date, more like an interview. i take full responsibility for that. he was totally interesting and should be wary of any future contact from me. i'm basically this sponge at his disposal.
that sounds way more gross than i intended.
who cares. i don't. i also don't believe in deep editing. if it isn't a typo, it stays.
spongy.
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