duck-shaped pain

16 November 2002
Road cone wannabe.

What is this strange relationship I have with orange? I have an orange pen, and I am trying to use an orange notebook as a journal ("trying" because writing in it is about 58th on my list of 57 priorities at the moment). Last weekend, I had them out on the table at the coffeeshop I stopped in at, and some random guy walked all the way across the room to come over and mention to me that they matched. I had never noticed that before, and now seeing the two together makes me think that they belong to someone else, someone who matches their lipstick to their shoes and buys Glamour every month.

Now I have an orange scarf to go with them. I have other scarves, but I had an orange-scarf-shaped hole in my life that I had to fill, and I bought the first one I saw. I now regard this as my lucky scarf, because although it was priced at $9.50, it rung up as 75 cents, and the salesclerk didn't even bother to correct it. I also got some Halloween socks on clearance: orange with little white skeletons on them, something which I would actually wear year-round.

I wore my orange scarf today with a grey jacket, green t-shirt, jeans, grey socks and red clogs. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and thought, "Who dressed me?"

Anyway, anything orange (except for hunter orange, which just says "asshole" to me; or actual oranges) is appealing to me lately. I relish describing things I own in Spanish, just so I can roll "anaranjado" off my tongue. But sadly, orange tends to make me look sallow, so no actual pieces of clothing in that color have been bought. Better to stick to the pens and socks.

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