Knives

Revisiting the cinnamon pull-apart bread, which was itself a revisitation of a favorite of mine, the rhubarb.

Evan is drinking white russians and telling me how handsome Zac Efron is. I tell him I prefer my men more Javier Bardem, less twelve year old boy.

There is a list of things to-do: not too many now, but I am not getting many of them done here near the end.

Today I stood on a beach across the harbor from downtown and watched a huge thunderstorm roll through the skyline, eventually completely obscuring it, and then I stood on the shore and the sky opened up and it poured so long and so hard, and I had to walk half a mile back to my car with 7 wet dogs in tow, and it was so cold and so fast, and when I got back to the car...

when I got back to the car I set down my shoes, which I had taken off to stand in the surf, the cool, clean, clear East Coast surf. I set them down behind the hatchback and I loaded all the dogs in and it was pouring so hard, and I left those 10 year old Converse sitting in an Atlantic parking lot, and I didn't realize it until 2 and a half hours later when I got out at home and thought I should bring them inside.

Life takes care of the letting go for me - it knows. Goodbye old Converse - it was your time, I suppose.

I like to think someone will find them somewhere, somehow, tomorrow or years from now and they will not know they have a story but they do.

They do.

for all my shit-talking, boston will always hold a special place in my heart. there is much i will miss.