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on friday evening, adam, carl, jeremy and i attended the english departmental picnic at w.d. blackmon's house. it was cool, i talked, ate some food, and bullshitted with a whole lot of people. but that's not where this story is going. when we arrived and approached blackmon's house, i realized i was walking about five steps ahead of the boys. ( Read more... )

something like four years ago, it seems like a lifetime. was it today? was it last week? is it next week? i cannot remember. the past fades in and fades out with a vague ambiguity, little to no clarity, only a collection of well-preserved memories that have no order in time or space ( Read more... )