Writing

For the past two nights, I’ve been up to about this time, scribbling away in a notebook leftover from college. When I was in elementary school, Theresa worked at Phar-Mor.

If you’re unfamiliar, was a chain of stores somewhat like a Walgreens/CVS/Rite Aid writ large that proliferated in the late ’70s and early ’80s, hit its apex in the ’90s and didn’t live to see the last episode of Friends.

But I digress

During one of their back-to-school sales, she bought an entire box of notebooks for me. Since I also used loose-leaf paper, these notebooks lasted through college. I’m down to my last three. It’s been about 20 years. This red one I’m using is a little worse for wear but I hadn’t written a single word in it until yesterday. I’m seriously impressed at how well these are holding up, especially since I grabbed this one out of Nicole’s trunk and I have absolutely no idea when it wound up there. There’s a yellow one that has notes from reporting I did at my first newspaper. I think it also has some college notes in it too.

But I digress again

Inside this improbably fresh time capsule, are notes about Brown River Blues. I had an outline to repair some things that is

yep

exactly where I put it back in the fall but I was too lazy to check until a second ago. Tomorrow (night), I’ll merge the two.

I haven’t had the urge to have a late-night writing session in years, probably not since around this time in 2011, to be honest. I’m enjoying this greatly. Lately, I’ve felt like I’m regaining things I have lost.

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