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06-21-07|
12:50 pm
It's funny, right; the things you think, say, sing. My mother made up songs that still resound in my brain. Nonsensical, unwanted. Still there. One line from a Shel Silverstein poem I read when I was eight years old comes back to me all the time. "It's all the same to the clam." I ask him how old he was when his parents divorced. If it came as a surprise. The point, I told him, is that everything affects you somehow. These idiosyncrasies. |