In which I like The Smiths better when it’s not The Smiths.
In which I remember the Big Tree, a gathering place for the neighborhood kids when I was a boy.
In which I dote on Proust, especially the grahic novel adaptation of his work.
In which I attend my first post-knee surgery physical therapy appointment.
In which I enjoy a perfect day with my wife and cats.
In which I list some sexy songs and ask my readers to do the same.