
Here’s a March calendar for you to print out:
Letter Size
A4 Format
Served Any Time

Here’s a March calendar for you to print out:
Letter Size
A4 Format
There are no birds visible outside Tricia’s window but one, a tiny bird perched at the tip of the tallest tree. That bird hasn’t moved in awhile and I’m beginning to think it might be a leaf. When I look away and then back, it’s in a different position, but it still isn’t moving.

Busy. Here’s a rushed print calendar for February:
Letter Size
A4 Format
“You know how you associate certain albums with certain times and places? This one reminds me of living in my old studio apartment. The one I mentioned before.”
I feel a similar association with a song that comes on later. But the one overwhelming thing that this song makes me recall is itself. The song is timeless.
When it ends, iTunes plays through the rest of the album. Then, before moving on to something else, it chooses to play that song again. The feeling of hearing it rushes over me as strongly as ever, but the associations I feel have shifted. There is still the song, but now I also picture the moment we heard it the last time.

Here’s the print calendar for January 2006:
Letter Size
A4 Format
Dancing with my neighbors in the entryway of someone’s apartment, I catch sight of myself in a mirror and notice that I still can’t dance. My head bobs to one rhythm, my feet shuffle to another, and neither of these motions resemble the tempo of the song that’s playing. So I reposition myself directly in front of the mirror, turn away from it, and keep moving.
Okay. Enough reflecting. I’m going to go kick 2006’s ass. You got my back?
The fog filled in the street during the ten or twenty minutes that I was inside. I cut through the park on the way home, attracted by the glowing lights. When I stepped off the track, the grass crackled. It was stiff with fresh frost.

This is the December Print Calendar:
Letter Size
A4 Format
…and the day that just passed, that was this blog’s fifth birthday.
Cheers.
A crow cries out from an overhead tree branch. I look up and it repeats its call. It’s cold, I can see its breath.