I lost one of the great loves of my life last night. Please indulge me in my hyperbole. There was me, thirteen. A fleshy, awkward creature, brace-face, four-eyes, mousy and odd. It was Jasta, one of my very dearest, who introduced us, in a moment both as benign and wholly transformative as flipping on a light in a darkened room.

Because Silence Can Never Be Misquoted. So did Tuesday and Wednesday. That editing was necessary, I think. I fixed the bulb that gives a dim.

Second Chance at the Holidays. Maybe it was the Christmas we got a fake tree instead of a real one.

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