It’s felt like spring here of late, and after an intense but productive MA paper meeting with my advisor yesterday I took off for a walk down by the lake, calling everyone I could think of to see if they wanted to go get a beer. No dice. I sat on the library steps and read for seminar, and ended up running into a bunch of friends in Memorial. We had some ice cream at the Union, and at the end of the day I walked all the way home.
♦ ♦ ♦
Sunday. At the brew pub, we talk about formative experiences at high school programs. I’m remembering things and I don’t want to stop. When we leave, James Taylor is on the stereo, and I’m singing, and I don’t want to just go home and do work. There are moments that pick you up and fly you off and drop you down somewhere else, somewhere familiar. And there you are; here I am.
♦ ♦ ♦
Tuesday. It’s sixty degrees and sunny, the day before it’s supposed to snow. I have a song stuck I my head I’d forgotten I’d written. How can I write anything but this? Lately I’ve been missing old friends, wanting to call up people I haven’t spoken to in ages. How do people come to know me when they meet me? After a time it becomes too hard to not speak, to hold back. We are held by this. There is so much more to say. Where do we begin to begin? I want to tell the story.


8 thoughts on “Interlude.

  1. I second the comments below. I apologize for my lack of originality. I was just telling MRhe the other day how it was sad how you and I were no longer in post contact anymore… perhaps I will try to remedy this this week.

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