Yesterday was perfect, in every way.  Kyle called in sick to work. We stayed in bed until 9, we made breakfast together. We walked the dog, we picked apples with Tom, and then came home to eat lunch together. We relaxed and he watched football while I knitted, and the dog lay in between us. We rounded out the day with a trip to a "haunted hill" ( Read more... )

This morning, I saw an old, round man in a wheel chair, and he was using his feet to pull himself across the street.

I'm not sure what, exactly, I plan to do with this image that I have now, but I felt compelled to put it down somewhere, as I may want to someday.

One of the few things I've been able to accomplish over February break has been some writing. I have been trying to get my stories down on paper, and I bought a book called Your Life As Story, which has sparked several exercises which have proven useful in doing so. They are very rough first drafts, but I'm putting them here both for storage, but ( Read more... )

Andrew Duclaw called me out of the blue on Friday. We haven't talked in months, and before then it had been nearly a year. This is not uncharacteristic of our relationship. Over the years, our friendship has endured innumerable hiatuses, for one reason or another.

But yesterday, he and I got together for dinner. We caught up and talked about things ( Read more... )

Kyle can be one funny bastard ( Read more... )

Its 2008 ( Read more... )

Too many of these are spawned by memories of him....but they all have a cathartic effect.

1.
It is warm outside. Too warm for the last day of December. Its as if the cosmos have warped in precision with the grotesque shape this relationship has taken on. My hands are rammed into the pockets of a puffy black vest, which I am wearing like bubble wrap ( Read more... )

Ohh....Kyle is so adorable, I can't even stand it sometimes ( Read more... )

"You know, Amanda, you always joke and say things like: 'Kyle Turcotte, this is your life...' when we are doing boring old-people things together.... but whether I'm sitting on the couch watching you knit, or you are correcting papers while I watch football, I have to say....it's a pretty good life."

--Kyle.

Man....I really like this one.

(Another writing exercise)

I perch on the wobbly stool, my back to the bar of the seedy Irish Pub that shamelessly promotes Guiness but does not sell it. Mark is to my right. Ken is on the stage to my distant left. My hands are wrapped around my Budweiser, which I am sipping slowly, trying to pretend as though I am involved in the conversation ( Read more... )