scattered memories of challenger

what i remember is all of the adults in my life going into the den and shutting the door.

that’s not actually an accurate memory, as it was my mother and ann, our cleaner, and then, later, my dad. but that’s the memory. the adults in a room with the door shut and me, age 4 1/2, on the other side of it.

this was the year after The Year Everyone Died– my friend from next door, my mother’s grandfather, my father’s boss– so we were already, then, somewhat a house in mourning. or, at the very least, a house that had spent a lot of the previous year avoiding discussion of grief and death whilst living submerged within it.

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the pathos of elvis rings (emotions via britney)

oh hello.

i know, i know. long time no words. forgive me. in a life of approximately 9,000,000,000 projects (give or take a few), it is sometimes hard to remain a word factory in all available venues.

but yo, i’m back!

the world is a pit of drear and suck. let’s talk about totally superficially meaningful things.

ELVIS JEWLERY. Continue reading