If you wrote me a letter or scribbled me a postcard or even left a memo on my dorm room door from ~1985 to ~1995 (when email started to obliterated all), I want you to know I probably saved it. Today, however, I threw it away. Piles and piles of papers and letters and programs from my late adolescence and early adulthood. Heartfelt letter from people I could not remember. Cryptic letters from people I did remember. Just no room for them anymore. Don't want to pack them.
I did save all the letters from my wife. I destroyed letters from ex-girlfriends, which, if they're reading this blog, they'll understand, I'm sure. Although really, why would they be reading this blog? Also, why do I seem concerned? See, these are the issues to not bring with.
Several eastbound trains leave Seattle in early March. One will be Moeful.
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Train? Are you having your car(s) airlifted? Did the house sell? How many ex-girlfriends? What is the price of tea in Ceylon?
Dammit, I wanted you to take that note or whatever it was I left you for the opening of "Tent Meeting" to your grave, dammit. I still have the Darryl Tarbox autographed baseball, after all...
Hmmm...yes I have to do all of this soon when I go in for the final spring clean-up of my small annex at my Dad's house. It all seemed like at one point that it would tell a story of my life, but I don't think that's true...Plus most of my entire collection of 80's baseball cards. Which are as we all know by now worthless.
Well, I put a lot of thought into that opening night card for Cymbeline, but I'll get over it. Eventually.
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