i keep getting really excited every time i look at my new years tickets. staring at me from those big cumbersome and unconventional printed pages.

what happened to tickets?

there is nothing nostalgic or romantic about an 8.5 x 11 sheet of Hammermill multipurpose office paper.

it's not meant for tucking in that box of tickets.

the treasure box.

overflowing with scraps of paper. so valuable. so fragrant and transporting.

your memory triggers the smells. the experience.

hints of that roll at red rocks.

how dirty and radiant with love and energy you were on that satisfied drive back from hampton, va. filthy never felt so beautiful. you were so nervous on the ride up. so poised to pluck.

and the time in '03 you saw b&s at that tiny theater in nc. and holy shit, you hope they tour again soon. your voice was so raw for days.

......
all snorted up, consumed by instant gratification. and the internet. and the capabilities of modern technology.
......


do you believe in admitting you are wrong? or maybe not wrong, but that you are not perfect?