“I got enough earrings. I don’t even wear what I got,” said one of two old ladies, passing a jewelry store in Campus Hills mall [Normal, Illinois].
“Children! (snap) Over here where mommy is,” youngish mom with 2-3 kids, ditto location.
Do I have a compulsion to record, I asked myself, between recording and charting lottery numbers and scribbling overheard vocalizations—me, same spot.
(Gibberish)—a baby, stumbling alongside Ma, same spot.
(A conversation too soft to hear)– two young, 20-ish women.
I can’t get away with these that often. I’m not being that detailed, so these are only selections, and if they are selections, why include things with no data, other than cuteness, and that doesn’t last too often.
“Fine. I hear you’re the pick-up lady. Ann says you’re gonna pick them up,” said middle aged woman, in response to a “How are You?” from the older woman.
blah blah (?) file cabinet, like under Walmart (?) — one middle-aged woman to another
Slush, slush of a girl’s coat. Clock, clock of heels. Squish, squish of utility man’s footwear.
[From journal of 19 Nov. 1996, Journal 17, page 17]