I distinctly remember taking it home and leaving it next to my stereo. Words I would later term as “neo-hippie power”. On my first day working with him, he loaned me Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks concomitant with perfunctory life-changing comments and soulful statements. My cousin, the sort we pick up through marriage and divorce, lived in the area and offered backbreaking work, which sated my Emersonian philosophies as much as my penurious situation. It felt like, for my citified self, the romantic epitome of the bucolic. For my first few weeks in the dorms, I had a bovine alarm clock, i.e., mooing cows that decided to test their vocal chords several yards from my window. I was 17 starting fall semester at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, a quaint golden-hilled town in central California.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |