Friday nights, I like to stay up late, watching TV, while Katie sleeps next to me, breathing softly. Periodically, the cat will climb into bed with us, standing on my chest, blocking my view, asserting her presence.
Since we got rid of cable, I spend a lot of what used to be prime late-night "weird TV" time watching YouTube, and tonight I've found a song from my misspent youth I used to listen to while riding my bike back and forth to school. I can see the wash by which I used to ride, some English fellow singing about the Knife, a thirteen year old kid, wishing for more than Tucson, wishing for soft sunshine and cool ocean breezes, for cloudy days and some kind of magic that I found, two-thousand miles away, and not where or in the way I would have expected.
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