I wonder if, once you are slightly implicated in the gray world, whether the gray world rolls into your zone like a fog or whether you just develop an eye for its guises and can spot it slipping under doors, into train cars, sitting in the seat beside you on a plane from Paris to Detroit. He wore what I took to be captain's bars. But I did not take
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But then, I really am sinister. In Latin, sinister means "left" and I am left-handed. Between that and the reddish hair, I nearly drove the nuns crazy. They tried and tried to correct my sinister-ness by making me right-handed, or dexter but it was hopeless. Are you by chance left-handed?
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http://www.amazon.com/Traveling-Speeds-Issues-Poetry-Prose/dp/1930974353/ref=pd_lpo_k2_dp_k2a_2_img?pf_rd_p=304485601&pf_rd_s=lpo-top-stripe-2&pf_rd_t=201&pf_rd_i=1882983793&pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_r=08QVV29D9M7EW63Q080A
My right hand, Iron, is the one I use. But Steel has a sinister scar across the thumb from, no kidding, a polo accident.
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Is it customary for fencers to name their hands, or particular only to you? I myself have a hatchwork of tiny scars on my right index finger, but from the mundane, working on a tree farm/nursery in my youth but my weapon was pruning shears.
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http://www.thevincentbrothersreview.org/rybicki.htm
Oh, my hands. No, this was just a joke. Tennessee Ernie Ford (or Slim Whitman) did a song later sung by Johnny Cash called "Sixteen Tons." I knew all the words at a very early age and would sing it to amuse my mother.
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The JC Penny tie is a red herring, of course.
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