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[sim_james]

I had a fairly nice, low-key day in Newtown today, browsing stores and taking some lunch at Kelly's with a pint of cider and an old Iain Banks novel. The weather was fine and every woman who walked past looked beautiful in summer dresses, tattoos, and dyed hair. For awhile I stood at the bus stop near a tall, slender creature in a green peacock-

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[sim_james]

If it was in the New York Times, it may have been this article. I haven't read all the comments, but this one got retweeted a couple of times:

David has an amazing mind trapped in a body that does not do what he wants it to. Cuddling Goldie, David could feel where his hands were, where his body was.

Unfortunately, when David was ten, Goldie died after being hit by a car. We mourned her passing, she was that once-in-a-lifetime dog. David has never learned to speak again, but he has learned to type (albeit painstakingly slow). He once loved writing poetry and wrote this poem in honor of her:

Bye Golden Dream Dog