Sunday, March 21, 2004

All the kids in the house clap your hands


Ph. is 13 today.  Drop the pre-teen rhetoric, old man.  Flan-hole filler on the 13th b-day of Ph.

I remember reading to him from Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends at my folks' house in Raytown.  First time we met.  A poem called "Invisible Boy." 

No, not tonight.  But tomorrow I'll scrap together an entry telling what I can recall from last night's trip to the movie house.  D. and I veered to the left (theater four - Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind); Ph. and his pal went to the right (theater sixteen - 50 First Dates).  Spotless Mind follows a premise of memory erasure, the collapse of detail, and so on.  It's more complicated than that (a review tomorrow, he said!), but the promise of fade and crumble has me taking pictures of birthday dinner--so as to preserve it in this computer's pixelated coffer (and depending on your browser configuration, in yours) if not in the nerve endings and chemical stir upstairs.  We may, like a cluster-spread of good, well-connected blog-writers and blog-readers, convene social memories, aggregating endlessly through a tired stretch of collective re-membering, of tonight's dinner and Ph.'s exodus from pure childhood.

Bookmark and Share Posted by at March 21, 2004 11:39 PM to Gobstuff