Some things distinctly remind me of childhood. Fourth of July. Calvin and Hobbes. Just about every part of Saddle Brook, NJ. Libraries and book stores.
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Just bought some Shel Silverstein, which held the record for longest author between my wishing to read, and actually reading: 16 years. I mean, normally I do 1/3 of a book, get bored or something happens, and that’s it, but at least I’ve touched the author. This time, it was none whatsoever. NONE. Who knows how the course of my life could have been different if Where the Sidewalk Ends helped form my general perspectives on life as a pre-teen, instead of Hunter S. Thompson’s Hell’s Angels and George Orwell’s Down and Out In Paris and London. Haha, just kidding. My childhood was Shakespeare and Émile Zola, duh.
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When you think about the RIAA, do you imagine a very pissed off Andy Warhol like I do? I’m curious to know, cause I imagine the representation of these clowns as being these arsty-fartsys but not quite Eurotrash either. It’s somewhere in between, balanced out. Just….Andy Warhol. Angry. It’s perfect. Crossing his arms, standing around in a velvet suit, trying to stare out down and making you feel bad about what you have done. Speaking of Euro,
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I never knew it was in the European Union paperwork/constitution/whatever that the death penalty was abolished for the entirety of the confederacy. You guys rule! I wonder if there’s a specific reason I never knew that, say a media that doesn’t want to call attention to the personal failings of the rights and liberties that my nation hands to people, cause some states apparently like playing God and ending lives without repercussion. Not cool!
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I’m still searching for something, but I’m closer than I’ve ever been in my entire life. My thoughts and prayers.