Slightly Future Me and the P of X.

I’ve been projectizing like crazy at the Rally (Rally!) … and then I got myself into a plonter and had to untangle a bit. (Also, really? The last time I said plonter here – August 2007? That can’t be right.) Here’s what happened. Asking...

Five. Past. Seven.

Five nights a week for two years. Every evening at five past seven. Of course it also happened the other two nights of the week, except that I wasn’t there. Those were her nights. Five past seven was when Marcello the Romanian went home to walk his dog. A sea...
The Fluent Self