let's talk about beauty:

there i was, last night, popping off 94 and onto dempster, heading east, windows all the way down, 50+ degrees outside in chicago in march, a cigarette absolutely mashed between my front teeth and the tape starts playing beastie boys "so what'cha want" and everything was absolutely perfect. i was driving with my left wrist, my right arm hanging down, pimped out, cruising with the waning light...

...and there i was back in highschool, in dave's brownishburgundyish four-door whatever, lunchtime, free period time, listening to the same song, drinking miller genuine draft purchased from el supermercado roman, not realizing how beautiful a thing it was. (and this is amazing to me now -- thinking about how at the time, it didn't seem like anything special...but at that age, you don't realize how beautiful a thing can be until much much later. now i feel it too much and that's why seeing any display of positive crowd energy [cheering fans, most of the time] can bring tears to me eyes.)

here's to the coming summer months. no more sitting outside school drinking MGD and stress. these days it's baseball parks and Old Style (a chicago tradition)...or whatever.

the point , if there is one, is that it takes very little for nostalgia to smack you backwards: the angle of light, or the quality of the air, or a song...

and that's freaking cool.