2004-10-29 - 2:55 p.m.
(Glasses, this is when you come in and say: "I told you it couldn't last forever." And I welcome you with the still beckoning bridge of my nose and say, "I know.".)
But I think that I left you in that dilapidated Anacortesian outdoor amphitheatre over-looking the lake.
Anyhow, I treasure every little trick my father has taught me, because there are not many. Among them: how to stack legos so that they look like authentic brick, how to properly open, operate, and close a pocket knife, and the most frequently used: how to darn the perfect stocking.
You position a lightbulb taut against the fibers just so, but last night I hadn't a spare lightbulb so in my desperation to wear these charcoal grey tights the next day, I used the sole of a shoe.
I didn't want it to work as well as a lightbulb, but it did.
And I went to sleep with a sour stomach.