there is a light well in the middle of our building. my little corner has a window that looks into it. the light in the light well flickers constantly, epileptically, if the sun is out.
columbus has seventy-five clear days per year, according to the wise internet.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:out of nowhere yesterday i got an email from josh, who lived around the corner from me when we were in high school. he would call me late at night & talk about physics until his throat got hoarse. we would go to the only thing which resembled a coffeehouse (it was brightly-lit. it had an afghan on the wall, crocheted in the stars-&-stripes. it was the only african-american-owned establishment i can think of in my entire hometown. you could go there in the afternoon & listen to all things considered & stare at the american flag afghan & the maps of the coffee-growing regions of the world) & drink our coffee (black) & plan our zines & read stephen hawking (josh) & huis clos (me). we bought each other used books in louisville. we listened to r.e.m. but only the early records.
anyway i last talked to him maybe six, maybe seven years ago, & yesterday there is this email from him which ends:
i'll be on a remote island off the coast of sumatra where i spent a week or 10 days in 1998, and won't have the ability to contact anyone for a few weeks, so i decided to write everyone in my address book before i leave. i hope all is well with you and look forward to hearing what you've been up to.
i am glad that he is in a coffee-growing region. i don't know what to write to him, when i respond.
he spelled my name wrong, too. i don't know what i think of that.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:today is one of the clear days.
san juli�n: p�dele a cristo que nosotros logremos perseverar fieles a nuestra santa religi�n hasta la muerte.
