how easy it used to be, a cool walk down a dozen blocks from here to there, now it's a a gas tank or two or a few thousand frequent flyer miles.

we rock sky colored baseball caps embroidered with the temperature of home, we wear it on our forehead, in our sweat beads, the places we miss, cheggit, there's a wrinkle on our skin (right above the eyebrows) that got cut open in our sleep when we learned that (like ol italo calvino used to say) the places we love know only take-offs, never landings.

a lot of y'all are moving away: peace to diane with the constantly cool shoes (dont stop moving to wherever your feet are possessed to go.) wasssssup to noogie mike, who's selling his soul for the cash flow (and existentially ponders pursuing that CPA), hey-hey to an, who did the bravest thing and moved back to take care of home, yo to j-guo, setting foot in shanghai, the splintered city that'll (hopefully) crack her head open like a ripe fruit. what is it to kathy bach, digging deep in hanoi for the things no one else sees.

this post is lame, like high school yearbook lame, but i couldn't care less. there's no need for me to say it but... you'll be missed.

see you in fifty years, four months, nine days, and 2 hours. (or hopefully sooner!)