Perhaps This Has Happened To You

You live in a house, you grow up, you move really far away from that place. Later your parents decide to move into a smaller house, or a condo, or to Cape Coral, Florida. You support them because in truth it is the best thing for them to do. Be decisive! Make changes! It is all very positive.

Once that's all settled, there comes a realization that might shock, that all the precious things you've stored for free at your parents house... well, they'd like all that stuff to find new placement in your very adult, very non-junior high home. And so, the boxes of these things I for one, can neither bear to look at, nor bear to throw away are now in my living room midst.

And they came by UPS and now I'm trying to engratiate them (though that's the wrong word) into the mid-century by way of IKEA aesthetic that I've tried to effect for quite some time now. Three boxes of yearbooks, notebooks, literary journals, norton anthologies of poetry, endless notes about people, and one interesting find that I totally forgot about: a list of people in my high school who's last and first names begin with the same letter--my friend and I were convinced that there was a rule somewhere that if your initials were the same letter, you were certifiable. A lost cause. A total jackwipe. And let me tell you, the list proves it...

Opening the box I'm faced with this very important missive, written to me from K and I think we might have been in World Civilization II, 1994:

Update:
Joule never guess where my cousin works Fri & Sat nites! Pick a club, any club, in D.C., OK? It jest so happens that he is employed at the self-same place as W's brother?!?!?! What, I tell you, are the chances? (It's fate. I know these things) But WHAIT... there's more! ANd he can get two free guests in each night. So, joe wanna drop in some nite, casually stroll up to him and say, "What a COINCEDENCE! I never thought I'd see YOU of all people here" (That's my line). Anyways, I now have my plan to capture him.

And there's more, like this lovely poem penned by yours truly back in 1993:

Unity

the opening band tries
and fails to compenate for the awaited,
the crowd grows tired in anticipation
and finally...
the band steps on.
the opening note, a collage of chords and
syncopated beats
calls attention to everyone
--even those in the cheap seats--
the stadium shakes from pounding feet
dancing to the thunderous sounds
while bodies flail in sync to the beat.

I'm pretty sure I'd been to Lollapalooza that year for the first time. Careful readers will detect that that means I went more than once. Careful readers will also notice that I was so moved by the experience that I just had to write something down about it.