As Pearl astutely noted in yesterday’s comments, there is something about autumn, when everything falling dead around us, that makes me introspective. The shortening days don’t help matters either. So lately I’ve been stuck in reminiscing mode, wallowing in a pool of memory.
So rather than playing the same note over and over, I’m going to open the phone lines, and start taking requests. What do you want to hear? More sepia toned stories of childhood among the wilds of Prospect Avenue? More stories of my adolescent romantic misadventures? More whining about my soul sucking career in corporate America? More stories about the insanity of youth sports, and the MN Hockey Cult? A Top Ten List? Nun jokes? Bike p0rn? Poetry? Moody pieces about the decline of rust belt America?
You name it, and I’ll play it.