Shaving  I'm shaving using my Schick razor. I cut myself on the right side of my upper lip and on my right cheek. There are many tiny nicks on my face, as if the blade weren't sharp or I didn't use enough shaving cream. Little pieces of skin stick out making the cut seem more like a bloody rash.  I'm outside the field house at Brimson sitting in an elevated place, like a balcony or on a small hill. I prepare to shave, using a lot of shaving cream. I don't have a mirror. I start to shave by making one stroke on my lower neck.  I'm at home in Oak Valley. I see myself shaving in the bathroom mirror. The first stroke I made without a mirror isn't bad. My mom calls me and says that a woman has just called for me. The woman's name is something like "Jake". Her message is that I don't need to bring Carlos Casteneda's book The Teachings of Don Juan to school tomorrow: she has finished reading it. I can't figure out whom this woman is that was calling. I think it may be my high school classmate Carmen Allure.  I'm outside near the Brimson field house overlooking Granger Field. There is a boy and two men playing football there. The ground is partially covered with patches of melting snow, and is really wet. The boy throws the football. One of the men is running for the pass. He dives and gets soaking wet, as if it was his duty to expend the effort to dive since the boy was throwing it. I shave thick hair off my neck and start to shave my upper chest. The hair is thick but stringy, like hair on my head.