Monday, July 03, 2006

This Is Writing, Too, Isn't It? 

Spotted in Northampton today: a handwritten sign informing passersby that prenatal yoga is cancelled pending increased enrollment. If you're planning on conceiving sometime very soon, stop by -- they're right next to Haymarket, and they really need some business.

Also spotted a guy carrying an old boombox blaring the Spice Girls. He was singing along loudly, and getting some pretty strange looks from the lesbians, freaks, hipsters, hippies, and all the rest of this town's overwhelmingly countercultural population as he passed through. Guess it takes all types.

Not spotted: information on how, or indeed whether, 'hamp celebrates the 4th. I know the Pride Parade is the big event around here, but c'mon, folks, acts of patriotism must include dissenters and activists, too, lest we abdicate our voices altogether, and end up powerless and impotent, speaking always to the choir.

Since the bookfodder has hit its twentieth page (twelve point Times New Roman, single-spaced), and I've become overwhelmed by the struggle to figure out how and whether to fit later events into the narrative as I write, I'm thinking I'll have Darcie and the kids pick me up this evening, instead of tomorrow as previously discussed. I need hard copy, damnit, and a floor to spread it out upon. And I wouldn't want Willow to miss her chance to march in the Monson 4th of July parade with the librarians.

posted by boyhowdy | 12:15 PM | 0 comments

Sunday, July 02, 2006

The Writing Life 

Spent a few hours here and there writing, first in the dorm room and then, due to a severe lack of caffeine, in Haymarket, where I had the first coffee of the day and a beautiful omelet made with fresh mozzarella and herbs. Followed this with more writing, this time down by the river hidden in a bus-stop like structure deep in the wooded environs of the Smith College Japanese Gardens. Then it was too hot, so I lay down and read an old Dick Francis book I picked up in the used bookstore in town yesterday to clear my head while the laptop batteries charged.

The heat makes difficult to begin again, so I thought I'd sweat my way down to the Northampton coffeeshops again in a few to post a blogentry – yes, and now you’re soaking in it – as the Smith wireless is password-protected. Free wifi is such a wonderful thing. Pity one has to go to town to enjoy it. Now I'm back in Haymarket after an hour's worth of in-town snacking: pizza here, a coffee there. It’s supposed to rain violently soon, but so far, the weather is just oppressive, and the sun shines through large breaks in the cloudcover.

Note to self: next time you do this, bring shorts.

Decided to include small vignettes about where I'm writing in the book itself, to lend the immediacy of writing it to the subject of writing the self through blogs, and what kind of self could emerge, given the particular self writing, and the situations in which I have found myself.

Still trying to say that last bit better, though. Right now, describing what this book is (and what it is not) takes up a good three pages, when I’d like to think it should be evident from the writing.

Overall, I have managed to produce over 6,000 words, 15-plus pages of mishmashed paragraphs in some rough semblance of order, though it’s increasingly looking like they span the first several chapters. At this point, I can feel myself reaching a point where I won’t be able to do much more in the generative sense, not without a printer and red pen at my disposal. If this is it, I suppose – if the rest of the weekend is a total wash, and I end up fudging with the words rather than writing them – it will still be enough.

Have successfully avoided writing anything from the second half of the book – the second child, the loss of job, the summer of homelessness, settling into the new home and vocation. Those readers whose lives are inexorably, unavoidably intertwined with my own need not yet be concerned about their own recent lives, and how they might look on paper. After all, the goal today and tomorrow is to crank out a single chapter, that it and an outline might be sent to an agent as yet unchosen and unpursued.

But writing constantly does not always allow me to choose my subject, and the way I write doesn't always let me put aside the voices without running the risk of losing them. Soon, too soon, it will be write it or lose it. Soon I will have to write some of it, if only because if I am to continue to write, I will need to write about something; if only because writing it is the only way to ensure that it doesn't go in the first chapter, even if that's only to create a bookend for later.

I'll try to be kind, but I also need to be comprehensive and honest.

The storm is coming, or so the paper says. Outisde, the sky grows grey with clouds again.

posted by boyhowdy | 5:26 PM | 3 comments

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Booking It 

Started the book this afternoon on a bench just outside the Smith College botanical gardens, under the bronzed gaze of some turn-of-the-century alum who went on to do great things, such as donate serious cash to the fledgling university. Typically, what I found myself writing about was the act of writing what I was writing about.

I'm staying in Mom's generously donated, dorm-furnished room over at the graduate school of social work, hers to use or lend while she teaches her summer course in Couples Therapy but generally vacant save on Tuesdays, when she's up to teach ehr class. The building, a converted homestead mere steps away from the president's house, is deserted, so I've no excuse to write save writer's block, and the lure of Northampton nearby.

So, of course, an hour after I started, I'm already in Haymarket in town, finishing off an espresso milkshake while I take advantage of the free wifi.

I'll be in Northampton until Tuesday, carless and on my own, while the wife and kids laze in the sun up north in Brattleboro, at her parents' house. Trying to get past the temptation to churn out notes, and a few pages of half-alive, almost-false starts. Wish me luck.

posted by boyhowdy | 3:52 PM | 1 comments

Friday, June 30, 2006

Wandering Off 

Fireworks in town tonight but we're not going, mostly because parking and other event dynamics wouldn't make it possible to slip out easily if the loud noise and smoke turned out to terrify the tots.

We had considered a trip to Westview Farms, the petting zoo and creamery up the mountain, where the fireworks can supposedly be seen in the distance over the heads of this year's crop of baby goats, but the kids have been at each other's throats all day.

Too, now that the novocaine has worn off, I'm in excruciating pain from the world's fastest wisdom tooth removal surgery this morning, and there's no telling how well I'd be able to monitor myself under pain or Percoset. (Not clear, in fact, how clearly I'm blogging.)

Looks like we'll make it to the town events on the 4th itself, what with Willow marching in the parade and all -- she'll be the tiny blond kid walking with the Children's librarian, wearing the dragonfly shirt she earned through participation in the Monson Library's "What's Buzzin'" summer reading program.

In the meantime, I'll settle for glowsticks in the yard, and a fire in my head.

UPDATE 8:23 pm:

The kids tired theselves out sliding down a chair into a pile of pillows, together and happy and learning how to take turns. They're asleep, I think, though it's hard to tell without going upstairs.

You can hear the band from the porch, just like sometimes on a still night you can hear the bagpipers practice from the same direction; guess the sound comes around the mountain instead of over it.

Wonder if we'll be able to see the skyglow when the fireworks begin? Surely we'll hear the thunder.

posted by boyhowdy | 6:20 PM | 0 comments

Shut Yo Moo-hole! 

Wasn't going to write tonight, but the neighbor's cow has been bellowing into the night for over an hour, and it's keeping me up.

How do you shush a cow?

posted by boyhowdy | 12:24 AM | 4 comments

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Sidebar Follies 

Back when I got paid to think about Media Literacy all day, the blog was chock-full of pop-culture analysis snapshots. These days, I teach teachers and students how to use technology thoughtfully, and I mostly blog about my family, and my environment.

But the mediamind hasn't gone away entirely. I'm still a culture vulture, a social scientist among the geekculture elite. For example, I still tag and save the braingasp tidbits. And, as always, I still post 'em on the sidebar, just a quick scrolldown to the right.

No one reads it, of course. But maybe you should.

Now playing on my rollover-for-commentary, delicious-driven tinyblog:

Wanna check out the rest of the tinyblog? Scroll down and stay to the right for my ongoing compendium of all things medialit, informatic, and just plain technofascinating. Or, see it in its original form over at

posted by boyhowdy | 9:23 PM | 0 comments

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Boyhowdy and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day 

The kids woke me up early, and I couldn't go back to sleep. We only had cheap coffee for breakfast, and I hate cheap coffee. I threw my back out picking up a tennis ball and now when I shift my weight or cough it's like I'm passing a kidney stone.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

I spent three hours on hold this morning, listening to faint muzak, only to get yelled at by some irritated guy at the Department of Education who insisted that he couldn't answer any of my questions until they received my transcripts -- only once they do get 'em, they go right ahead and weigh my case for Licensure before I can send anything in to support it.

The lady at the mortgage company needs me to fax her a copy of a letter set by her own company, but expected us to know that our bill didn't reflect reality, and now we owe a late payment that we all agree we didn't incur.

My increased frustration with the universe made me cranky, and I took it out on the kids. Then I felt far too horrible about it to be able to deal with them crying. Then I felt guilty for not dealing with them, like I had made a mess and was now refusing to clean it up, and leaving Darcie holding the mop. Then I yelled at my mom at dinner.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day, one of those where nothing goes right, everything has ominous far-reaching consequences, and it all slips through your fingers.

Some days are like that. But, Lord, please, not so many.

posted by boyhowdy | 9:41 PM | 1 comments

Monday, June 26, 2006

The Glow Of Summer 

Now in five fun-tastic colors!Just finished a single-bid ebay auction to find ourselves proud owners of 500 8-inch lightstick bracelets for under 40 bucks (and that includes shipping and handling). They cost three bucks apiece at those 4th of July celebrations, which is totally nuts, but in bulk, they're totally worth it.

Last year, we ordered a couple hundred, used 'em to help keep track of the kids in folk festival crowds at night, and in the backyard, too -- for that peace of mind, I'd pay much more than a couple of cents per. The remainders lasted all year, and made for great special-treat fun at bedtime in the long winter months.

Wanna join the fluorescent crowd? GlowUniverse sells 'em direct, but the ebay route tends to be even cheaper. Better, if you order right now, they'll actually arrive before the 4th.

So make your life a little brighter -- at these prices, you can literally give them away. And why not? Glowsticks keep us all young and full of wonder.

posted by boyhowdy | 5:04 PM | 0 comments

Sunday, June 25, 2006

A Matter of Perception 

Hilarity at home tonight after a long overnight up north with Darcie's family. The baby gives voice to a dozen animals or more, from a duck's honk to a bear's growl, but attributes to her elder sister the lion's breathy roar. Willow says that I am old, but Mama is "still new"; pressed, she cannot explain why.

When they sleep, I am restless, unwritten. The book outline was done two months ago. Sitting down to write the first few words has become herculean. Has it been talked out too soon, made moot by too much preemptive discourse on the subject?

Used to be I could recognize the moment, seize it. But then, that was when deadlines were imposed from outside, and writing was all that needed to be done. Now I struggle just to write the blog, let alone write about how it has changed my life.

Blank paper used to be a gift -- when did it become so heavy? I make a long list of home and landscape chores that need to be done this summer, from ant eradication to woodpath-clearing, and, having done something, turn to fiddlebrain pasttimes, far from the maddening page.

posted by boyhowdy | 8:43 PM | 0 comments

Friday, June 23, 2006

Family Secrets 

It rained earlier, and it's getting dark. The roads teem with toads washed from flooded lairs; it's like a horror movie, almost, and they're unavoidable. Back home, the summer's first fireflies have begun their nightly flit and flicker.

I'm on my way back from a quaint town in Connecticut, all tobacco farms and rustic clapboard malls that spell their name with extra letters just to fit in. My mother's sister lives there, just an hour fifteen as the crow flies; it seemed so close, I felt bad sending Aunt Lil down on the bus.

I stayed a half hour, maybe. Was polite, talked teacher's unions, grandchildren and weather, drank rapidly a glass of water. Things were just starting to get comfortable after years without contact when I made my excuses.

So much unbloggable in the last few days. Sometimes, I wish I didn't know so much about other people's secrets. It would make blogging easier, anyway.

It was a hundred times more lonely coming back without Lil in the car.

But those who hope to keep their friends and relatives close must cultivate trust. It seems loneliness and silence are the sun and soil of any good blogger who hopes to keep his family secrets. And thus we give our selves family, though it costs us our diaries, leaves us only poetry, and the facts of the matter.

Round the corners, then, and around the dark roads with the brights on. Light tunnels into fog, the recursive world comes at you out of the darkness, and you deal with it as it comes, just to survive.

posted by boyhowdy | 9:20 PM | 0 comments

Thursday, June 22, 2006

The Lensless World 

Mom's old video camera wouldn't show or capture images, and it was too dark for the digital camera, as I've never figured out what shift in settings might stabilize pictures taken in near-darkness, from a great distance, of moving bodies.

But technical (and positional) difficulties nothwithstanding, it's hard to call tonight's pre-school graduation ceremony and performance anything but a successful milestone. Willow was exuberant and wiggly -- easily overshadowed, yes, and not yet as confident as the kindergarten five year olds, but certainly a force to be reckoned with, if not tomorrow, then very soon.

I took a few pictures with mom's high-end non-digital, but mostly I waved, my hand in the three-fingered sign for "I Love You", blew kisses. In between songs, Willow looked for us in the crowd, over and over; found us, grinned happily, held up her own tiny three-fingered sign, which she checked visually to make sure it was right before thrusting it out at us like cupid's arrow.

It was good, in a way, to end up different, more connected to her and to the event, rather than join the myriad ranks of videographer Dads surrounding us. Years from now, when we unpack tonight's thinpaper diploma from yet another childhood collection, it will be that connection, that moment made when our eyes locked in pride and mutual delight, the shared happiness of her growing spark of selfassured personhood, which we remember best, and cherish.

posted by boyhowdy | 11:52 PM | 0 comments

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Light, Refracted 

Now with songs about rainbows! Also today: what IS on the other side?

A practically unbloggable day, mostly because after years of bigbang prep school graduation pomp and end-of-year ritual as the boarding community empties out of itself, lugubrious and slow, it turns out public school goes out with a whimper. Has it really been 180 days since that first prepubescent kid showed up in my classroom, half a foot shorter and temporarily, oh so temporarily, reticent?

If I believed in omens, though, I'd have to say tonight's weather trifecta -- a perfect rainbow, superimposed over a sharpstick lightning storm, against a reddening sunset -- was closure enow. Certainly was the biggest damn sign I've ever been shown, anyway; an hour long and slotted perfectly into the treegap before us as we drove over the mountain from a long family afternoon in Northampton, itself a kind of heaven: playground play, window toyshop shopping, supper with Mom in the organic restaurant, sorrel soup and perfect crab cakes while the rain started outside.

Surely the universe was trying to tell me something. And funny, how rainbows bring folks out of the woodwork to gawk in the streets, grining at each other and the sky in turn. I slowed the car coming through town to yell at a few teens out for a stroll, enjoying their first night of summer, that they were facing the wrong way. Their gleeful exclamations fading through the open window as I drove off were reward enough. Mission accomplished, for another year.

And now, today's favorite songs about rainbows:

posted by boyhowdy | 9:38 PM | 1 comments

Monday, June 19, 2006

Stop, Stop, Baby 

BoingBoing post about this flickr pool of stick figures in peril got me thinking about street signs obscure, obscene, and in particular that o-so-tempting negative space all red and low-hanging on the bottom of your average stop sign, like in this over-worded example.

But not for me the "Stop War" sign, nor the political "Stop Bush", truly. My humor tends towards the wry and the minimalist. Perhaps "Stop...Looking At Me Like That". Or even "Stop...Collaborate and Listen."

My brother brought a "No parking" sign home when we were kids, erased letters, fixed it up to say "No s fer at u" with only a bottle of white paint. From there I learned to blot words off newspaper columns until a poem was left. If you use a nice fat marker, what's left slides down the page like a rockfall.

I've always envied his visual sense. But I want no less to bring joy to the randomness of the universe.

It's the same inner drive to giggle, I think, that causes me to pay double tolls "for the guy behind me" on the Turnpike once in a while, just to see the mayhem begin in my read view mirror as the unknown beneficiary tries, valiantly, to pay for his rightful share. The same that makes me want to add an asterisk to the Yield sign, and footnote it, so that all might know that, if you say the word "Yield" a couple of times too many, it sounds really weird.

posted by boyhowdy | 8:44 PM | 0 comments

Come And Go, Come And Go 

A turtle halfway up the mountain this morning, a greygreen midsized snapper just beginning its journey across the road. A refugee from an old joke? Roadkill waiting to happen? I wanted to stop, but I wasn't ready to save the world just yet.

From there the same two geese as yesterday, and the weeks before, so still I startled the first time they moved as I passed. Until that moment I had thought that they were decoys, movable and re-posed daily, for, I suppose, the entertainment of daily commuters like myself.

And then the peak passes into early sunlight like the 178 mornings before, and with it the long view into Springfield valley, spread before me like, I dunno, a patient etherized upon a table.

Halfway down the busses join the procession. Before we know it, we are pulling in together.

In school the kids are restless, in line and overheated already at 8, there on the playground asphalt during the morning fire drill; we spend the remainder of the day trying to figure out which seventh grader pulled the alarm.

Summer comes. Games in class today, and shortened periods so we can all enjoy the student bands after lunch in the too-hot auditorium. Desk-cleaning tomorrow, and a graduation ceremony, an early dismissal. One last morning drive over the mountain to go.

posted by boyhowdy | 9:26 AM | 0 comments

Saturday, June 17, 2006

Ahhh! Damaging Straight Line Wind Gusts!*
*Alternate title: Help, Help, I'm Being Oppressed! 

Don't know why there's no star up in the sky...

Weird weather coming. The National Weather Service releases a severe weather alert, which says:




Plan for tomorrow: lie around panting. Hopefully, by the time the family arrives for Father's Day it will have begun to cool off a bit, and we can move on to the alcoholic fluids.

Also, apologies for the cut-and-paste caps. Man, those national weather service folks make such a big deal over everything.

posted by boyhowdy | 8:28 PM | 0 comments

Heat Sonnet 

Hot today, and hotter tomorrow.
Summer comes early to New England,
Our slow Winter long forgotten
Among the greening of Spring.

The hose runs warm now.
The dog pants at the door.
We close the windows early,
Preserve the chill of night,
The pressure of the rotating sun
Against the dew as it rises.

Watch as noon approaches
Outside our glass cocoon,
The green glow of the world
In a lightly clouded rain.

posted by boyhowdy | 11:21 AM | 0 comments

Friday, June 16, 2006

Yearbook Days 

So little learning in these last days of school. Children on the cusp of summer fiddle in their seats for halfdays, end up outside in the hot sun of already summer, eating hot dogs, signing shirts.

To a teacher, each shirt signing is a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen.

Summer, summer. Summer comes, like a storm on the horizon. 8th graders on their way up to the high school count the minutes until they once again sit, low men on the totem pole, on a new school wall.

Passed the yearbook out yesterday during lunch, I their intrepid advisor behind the table with the master list, standing behind the few remaining yearbook staff for one last time as they shoved the glossy blue hardcovers into four hundred hands or more. Never sold enough, but there was a surplus for this my first year; I'm already plotting ways to improve next year's process, next year's book. Maybe it's not the most important of my mandated tasks, but it's good to have something so concrete to show for the year.

I decided to only let 8th graders sign my book this year. Let the rising elders begin the year with incentive to buy one. They'll forget, as they will so many of our lessons. But somewhere, in the back of their blossoming minds, the world is crystallizing around these thousand truths. It is why we teach, after all. And such folly to demand more of them than this great task, this great rememberance, this great change.

posted by boyhowdy | 8:48 PM | 0 comments

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Where We Are Is Here 

Got paid to play laser tag with 13 year olds all afternoon. Kicked their butts, mostly, as the 13-year-old mind is all action, no strategy. Sore tonight, but hoorah for field trip day, where you get to shoot your students.

Back at school this morning and for the rest of the week, I've got kids cleaning computers with q-tips and rubbing alcohol. No, I'm sorry, they're "learning proper computer maintenance and care" as part of my computer curriculum. Well, it gets the place clean, anyway.

The book is writing itself in my head. I can feel it. Meanwhile, the calendar begins to fill for the impending summer. May the words make it out alive, amen.

posted by boyhowdy | 7:41 PM | 2 comments

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

A Taste Of June 

The crickets have returned, and with them the heat of the day, the coolness of the evening. We lie in bed with Willow, my wife and I, and sing: The Water is Wide, Somewhere Over the Rainbow, You Are My Sunshine. Our voices are raspy, but we still know all the same words; our cadence matches perfectly after years of duets, of listening to each other in cocreation.

Summer comes. At night the skies stay bright for hours, until the horizon glows, and the nightlight moon brings light to the trees. We dream of living in the fields again, in our summer tent city communities. Outside, the world buzzes with the hidden green of it all.

posted by boyhowdy | 9:32 PM | 0 comments

Monday, June 12, 2006

And Back Again 

Another week unblogged, but this time, I'm ripe with excuses. Wanna hear 'em?

We'll start with The Mysterious Illness, a three-day bout of high chills and fever, numbswollen glands in odd and embarassing places, and a fever-induced pelvis pain like you wouldn't believe. Spent much of two days in the hospital under a blanket, freezing to death at room tempurature, in fact. I've given more blood in a week than I've ever given, and I used to pride myself on my donor status.

Lucky my primary care physician finally noticed what turned out to be a fist-sized, entirely septic, horribly vicious spider bite on my calf, or I'd still be being poked in the abdomen even now. In my defense, I would have noticed that myself, had I not been such a total disaster both physically and mentally.

Disappointingly, I have yet to manifest any superhuman powers [insert spiderman picture here]. And I don't look like Tobey Maguire any more than I used to, either. On the bright side, the fever finally came down Friday afternoon, just in time for excuse number two: The Edith Jones Memorial Weekend, up in Rome, NY.

Darcie's Mom grew up in Rome; her father worked there, both at the base and at the press, and between 'em, that pretty much covered the major industries around Rome and it's upstate environs. The family plot is there, too, and we gathered there in the utterly violent cold and rain to sing her favorite hymn, it was nice to think of Edith one last time all together, and see her in each other's faces fondly.

Edith didn't really want a memorial, but I think the weekend functioned as a pretty good send-off, once the memorial itself was over. Those folks with memories revisited them, taking tours in the area, looking for old haunts grown rough with age. We ate at the Savoy, her old favorite restaurant, both Friday night and Saturday; the food was great, the piano player gentle on the keys and stuck in time like the rest of the place, and it was nice to watch old home movies with her bothers and their families there in the function room.

Nice, too, to have some time to hang with Ginny, and the rest of the family we know and love back at the house. Edith would have loved it.

Still, the blogging would have started last night, were it not for End Of Year Grading, our third and final excuse of the evening, and due first thing tomorrow morning. 'nuff said, there. If there is a teacher out there who actually likes the number crunching and score-fiddling that the rest of us find such a year's end buzzkill, I'd be happy to trade papergrading time tit for tat.

My blogger's voice has been lost a bit to the antibiotic-induced delirium, but I relinquished my doctor's note at work this morning, so I guess it's business as usual from here on in -- if by "business as usual" you mean brainfried and ready for summer. One week and counting until the last day of the school year...a week and a day until the bookwriting begins in earnest. Viva la blog!

posted by boyhowdy | 8:45 PM | 2 comments

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

In The Afterlife 

...and I feel fine.

It's 6/6/06, and the news is full of halfhilarious musings about the end of the world, a party in Hell, and the well-timed release of a totally unnecessary remake of The Omen. Here in subjective-land, it's also day 6 of 6 in our 6-day class rotation. Oh, and it's my father's birthday today. He's 60.

Of course, I'm not superstitious (knock on wood). It's funny to see the kids wandering the halls with their fingernails painted black, like a goth population explosion. But surely the achy lymph node in my groin is but a temporary symptom of something mild and temperable.

Still. Give it another two weeks, and it really will feel like the end of the world, albeit the usual temporary one. Heading into a school building after the school year has ended is surprisingly like walking into a post-rapture world.

posted by boyhowdy | 11:30 AM | 8 comments

Monday, June 05, 2006

Mundania, And Then Some 

Read two Neil Gaiman books (American Gods and Nancy Boys) in 48 hours. Wrote half a poem -- fragments, mostly -- but it never fell together. Tried several times over the past few days to log in, but the world kept getting in the way.

The countdown to the school year's end seeps into everything we do at work. Students stream raucous and uncouth through the hallways on their way in and out each day like salmon on their last few runs. In my rare free periods there are budget numbers to clean up, year-end reports to word and weave. Grading looms on the horizon, and after that, summer.

The sky peered blue around the clouds this morning for the first time in a week or more. This evening while my wife prepped tomorrow's birthday supper -- my father turns 60, and there will surely be more to say about that as the week progresses -- elderkid Willow and I sat hand in hand on the porch steps and watched the last technicolor fade from the very tops of the candlestick trees, the oaks and pines that line our yard.

I sang her to sleep tonight with the old school song, and thought while I sang of how much I miss those few fleeting things which made the boarding school existence so overwhelming, so whole: singing, suits, the pomp and ceremony.

A year ago the schoolyear would be over, and the great release would be upon us. Thirty years, and there I was her age, furtive after lights out, reading books in the hallway light while my parents murmured upstairs. My voice is slipping away, I think, but it is not lost. This new halflife takes some getting used to, but there will always be another year.

posted by boyhowdy | 10:23 PM | 1 comments
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