Anger

I always wondered what it would be like when the words stopped coming, what it would like if the music stopped playing, what it would be like when these eyes stopped crying every night for someone else. The answer is, I have no answers, which is what happens rarely in a columnist.

When I was something that passed for being an athlete, we had one guy, just one guy, on our rival opponent that drove me wild. He I, uh, well, hated though I did not know him. Again hated, did not know. Never met. Didn’t greet. To my memory have never spoken a word to him.