Last, next.

81: Autumn Trilogy (Maple)
82: Pitch Black (lined)

The orange was just too jarring for me. Moving on after only a week. I’ll put it to some other use that doesn’t involve me carrying it with me everywhere.

Autumn Trilogy, Pitch Black

Yesterday, I attended my first live music event in almost two years: The SPCO performing Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. It would have been an absolutely breathtaking performance under any other circumstance but after everything we’ve been through, it was an astonishment.

close up of a torn ticket stub

Last, next.

80: Trailhead (PCT)
81: Autumn Trilogy (Maple)

Trailhead, Autumn Trilogy

I am here, this is happening.

Seventy-seven years ago today, one of the two men I was named after was murdered by the Nazis.

So here’s what I wrote for the day’s date. Last Wednesday. And I didn’t notice the mistake for a few minutes.

September 8th 1992

The Magical Powers of a New Shirt: on 9/11, violence, language, and The West Wing.

I found this in a book I just pulled off the shelf. The website is still live, mostly, but it doesn’t seem to be a brick & mortar shop anymore.

bookmark for a travel store in San Francisco

(Full series here.)

Last, next.

79: 50 (Grass Stain)
80: Trailhead (PCT)

50, Trailhead

I’ve just finished writing two books. They’re very weird, and probably gibberish, but I suspect there’s perhaps — at most — fifteen people who might, briefly, find them curious or even somewhat bemusing. In other words: typical poetry manuscripts. Let’s see what happens next.