#masterfully3

If you were out walking, you would hear the sound of a band practicing in the basement every block. Every house was large, built close together in the early 1900s and teeming with kids in their 20s, usually draped all over their front porch, 40s insulated by brown paper bags. It was a mix dangerous nonsense and just plain nonsense, fun parties, basement shows, arrests, naps in the sun, loud music, and skateboard accidents. It was a magical place full of “fuck around and find out” energy, and some days I miss it terribly. 

that honestly means a lot to me, I wanted to capture some piece of what we go through when we lose something irreplaceable, and can never hope to understand why.

So much ominous portent, so much thievery of a real person’s photo. This man is probably a sweet dude from the grizzled North, but now he’s trying to scare me away from retiring anywhere. I feel a strong Scooby-Doo vibe.

I still wrote bad poetry about it.

I’ve been seeing this girl for 22 years. I’m starting to think she wants more than just friendship.

Believing my only real worth is what I do for other people.

Thank you so much. Her little sister is still here, but I have to say that they are the last symbols of how life used to be with children in this house.