Time Machine

Played “Purple Rain” in the car for the kids. They thought it was nice. I realized they would never have it burned into their souls, blaring from a cheap DJ booth in a middle school gym, wearing shoes that look nice but pinch, hand-me-down jeans and his heart in his throat, praying for the nerve to ask that perfectly beautiful magical girl to dance but instead standing frozen wondering if he just lost some weight and learned to spike his hair like the cool guys maybe she would love him. You’re right kids, it is a nice song. And a helluva time machine.

Rolling Time

Funny how places and things can teleport you.

Here I am at my son’s skating party, at a skating rink I’ve never seen before in my life.

But inside I’m the fat kid too poor to buy skates who never learned to skate and I hate all the cool kids for having fun.

I may have issues.