Thursday, 15 February 2007

Dear Purple, Pink & Brown Flannel Shirt, Relic of Youth & Grunge,

For years you've been a daily reminder of youthful folly, but there is only so much room in one closet.  You have been a wonderful humbler, but between the Gramsci Smock and the Deterritorialized Watermelon Nightmare, I doubt I'll be becoming-arrogant, war of position or no...

Feb 15, 2007 11:39:00 PM

1 Comment

CR

ha ha. I have recently discarded my Nirvana era flannels too. The hardest of all was a navy hoodie that saw just about all of northern nj, a few forays into NYC to drink Zima in Washington Square Park (just barely pre-giuliani), a Pink Floyd show, throwing up at said Pink Floyd show, a few really memorable makeout sessions at a place called South Mountain Reservation, the works. Molecular traces of pot smoke, whiskey from dad's cabinet, other unmentionable natural substances, all thrown out along with the good ol sweatshirt.

Ouch.

But harder to part with - maybe you'll understand - are the sweat... stained isn't the word, sweat-encrusted, sweat-concretized - baseball t-shirts. Xtown American Legion Post 245. High-school ones, etc. The ones with numbers on the back - I keep those, they stay with me until the end. #13, when I could get it.

I am in fact wearing one right now. It's, um, 13 years old, shows it. But I can't throw it out. When I throw it out, my comeback hopes are ooooover.

Funny that we hit this point at the same time. It's that time of life, I guess.

Posted by: CR | Friday, 16 February 2007 at 12:12 AM

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