The Struggle is Real - My goal since resigning myself to moving out so the realtor could stage my house (and hopefully rid it of the stinky cat stink) has been “do one thing a ni...
Sep 11, 2003
September 11, 1964
It's 9-11 night, 2004 and I am on Esplanade at dusk. It's still hot, of course, but there's the strange autumnal cast to the air we seem to get in September....and it felt for some reason (as I told my friend, Michael, whom I was with) that it felt "like New England...New England in 1964." Well, at least like my overwrought imaginings of New England in 1964. I don't know why, but it did. Surely enough, a little walking disclosed none other than beatniks playing jazz in a courtyard and an Asian woman with what looked like a vestigial bouffant. It was all very otherworldly....like I imagine New England.....in 1964....to be.