Occasionally something impels me to puzzle through some enigma enclosed within a vignette from my youth, and invariably I turn to writing as the method. But once I start to immerse, I lose some control and it becomes more like managing a kite in a gale than steering a ship into the memory banks.
-ONE-
think I saw her 4 times
very first time, I kissed her mouth
completely unlike me
Read On…
Stuart was the first philosopher I’d ever met. At least he saw things that way. He was actually studying it in university, in South Africa I think, and could hold forth about Nietzsche’s opinions on this or that matter while as a 19-year-old hitchhiking through Europe in the early 70’s, all I could muster was a general awareness that the guy was cool for our generation because he said God was dead and dug the concept of superman…
||skirmishes|| ||with|| ||reality|| 