a wonderful day in the neighborhood

I am so damn tired. I can't stop yawning, and I can't concentrate on work. blah.

It feels a bit like Spring outside in Philly today. Franklin Square across the street is busy being renovated. Sun is shining.

There are only two times when I miss being in school, spring and fall. Fall because all the back-to-school supplies get to me and I end up buying pens and notebooks just so I can sniff their crisp clean scent.

But Spring reminds me of Pirate Booty and my very first car - cherry red two-door which barely fit three, but I somehow always managed to stuff in six - getting late to HS every damn day with just enough time to sprint to homeroom, torturing our physics teacher, making up imaginary band names with Dee and Minnie and Han, bumping noses with Jay.

And then it reminds me of my uni's quad, optimistic students decked in shorts with sweatshirts, lounging on blankets in the sun, the type-press in the library where I spent most of my free time senior year, making handmade books - setting, rolling prints, binding pages with thick pieces of string - and my old attic apt on Walnut St with Porkchop, walking back from creative writing at 9 at night and finding half the house burnt down, the entire neighborhood watching, and Porkchop all dazed and in her pjs and barefeet after the ffs busted our door in to get her out. And Poetry Brian, who liked orange and, in retrospect, spent most of our workshops flirting with me. Fun times.

I find it somewhat strange that I was better at poetry in college than short stories, and now I couldn't pen a poem if someone was holding a gun to my head, yet I'm brimming with stories. Weird.

Anywho. Spring always makes me nostalgic. I hope it stays warm.