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Practically everything that you see written is either in first person ( I ) or third person ( he or she ) so I’ve been fascinated lately by the idea of writing in the 2nd person, you. My goal is to put you in the driver’s seat, to put you into the action, for you to feel as the character feels, to walk in their shoes so to speak. I’m sure that I’m blundering into a totalitarian chaotic mess, but here we go anyway.

Unrelated but germane: A special thank you goes out to Branford Marsalis, for his Romances for Saxophone album, and for his graciousness in not kicking me to the curb when I asked to speak to him after a performance. You sir, truly are a gentleman, for that also I thank you.

The one painting that I wish I had the balls to steal. I love this one by my friend Kerry Swinney.

You awaken early to insure that you can find parking in that awful horrid gravel sand lot, marked simply C.  The lot downhill from your destination, the one that leaves you pondering whether the effort is worth it every single day you make the trek. You wonder a lot these days. Wonder or is it wander dazed and confused with little time to gather your thoughts between one thing and another. You arrive breathless and slightly sweaty despite a windy introduction to autumns first chill, having walked too far too fast so as to not be late. Most mornings you feel your heart beat in a jagged rhythm which causes your ears to throb and pressure builds behind your eyeballs like a soccer ball pushed past its capacity and near to bursting. You think I must slow down, or that most regular time-keeper may fail and you find no energy to consider that, not today. What would a heart attack feel like? Would you even know or notice until it was too late? Surrounded by infants, or those just out of their family’s womb, no one will help you. They have not the skill or experience, nor do you, even in your advanced age with your vast and superior knowledge base. You live in a society of perpetual youth, where all that is golden and the world is vibrant, and oozes life. You want to recall being led by your pheromones and hormones, but pause to catch your breath and your thoughts.  You are late for class. It’s time to go.