On waking, a most pleasant memory: one of my first real girlfriends; she lived in the CD, Seattle's less-glamorous, still central neighborhood. The apartment was frumpy but spacious; the drawers stuck, the outside stairs were plain and rickety, the shower was unsexy. But it was so peaceful: being there was timeless, like summer. We played Simpson's: The Boardgame (she won, hands down) and she dragged me to karaoke at a rowdy cowboy dive bar. We learned and were sweet to each other for a long time; then things broke down when I realized her response to Jeanette Winterson was not as complex as mine. I was the sort of person then to let things like that get between us. I hope I'm not anymore.