I'm watching the crackling silhouettes of winter trees against the pink sky. They look like lace sliding by on a railway track. I see things every day that I should write down, that need so badly to be captured, but instead roll off my memory like drops of water. I've begun to compartmentalize in my head phrases, photos, memories, and single words that are important, that can be used again--things that made an impression. I make lists in my mind like this:

From the very beginning, they all knew I was a weird baby.

I did it 'caus you had to learn.

Another night on

Start with whistling.

Subject to change

The Kings of Water Valley

Stuttering Ken?

Anything that takes place in Possum Neck, Mississippi

Cocaine Charlie never shot the vegan, he just wished it.