Always Watch The Hands. The Hands Will

The Radio Was On And That Was The First Time I Heard That Song, The One I Hate. Whenever I Hear It All I Can Think Of Is That Very Day Riding In The Front Seat With Lucy Leaning Against Me And The Smell Of Juicy Fruit Making Me Want To Throw Up. How Can A Song Do That? Be Like A Net That Catches A Whole Entire Day, Even A Day Whose Guts You Hate? You Hear It And All Of A Sudden Everything Comes Hanging Back In Front Of You, All Tangled Up In That Music.

I Am About As Detailed As A Shadow.

A Man Who Has Been Dead For A Week In A Hot Trailer Looks More Like A Man Than You Would First Expect.

This Ability To Exist In Pieces Is What Some Adults Call Resilience. And I Suppose In Some Way It Is A Kind Of Resilience, A Horrible Resilience That Makes Adults Believe Children Forget Trauma.

Race And Class Are The Easiest Divisions. It's Very Stupid