vulgar.

i do this so rarely.

Alexandra Spignesi’s posting of a picture of herself, peewee, brian mcsweeney, amanda machado, and myself from last october prompted this entry.

there’s no warning.  there’s just no warning.

sooner or later, everyone will find that the easy, rather large, clean, well groomed sidewalk upon which they have been padding their way through life will suddenly bleed into a four lane highway and disappear from them forever.

drunk on nostalgia, on one of those nights that, here and there, we all experience time and time again, we might attempt to retrace our steps and have a sit down.  recreate old memories, rekindle old friendships, lost loves, simply put; we might strive to take and retake the roads which will only lead us to thorn and bramble in the end.

truely, once the years are behind you, they remain that way.  you’re only the age you are, at this very second, the very instant that you are reading the first letter of THIS word, (which is gone now) once, one simple INSTANT, and, dear reader, you will never be that exact age again. twenty - something and six months, four days, ten hours, four minutes and 30 seconds or what have you. it happens and then its gone and you move on to the next.

the point is, take what you can from every single second. read. write. talk. love. laugh. we only get one shot at this, my fine feathered friends, and although the number of moments i wish to relive simply fill room after room after room in my mind, i know that i would rather have a hundred things i miss than a hundred things THAT i missed.

now, really, nostalgia. get the fuck out of here and leave me to my whiskey.

I’m just a tired old thing stuck in the repetition of new England retail. My regrets sit in the lines of my face.

Hi ding ding hoo hoo