Writers, Gods and the Death of the White Noise…

 I turned off the opera on the TV because I know it’s past midnight and the white noise will never come back to remind me the day is done.  Remember the white noise?  Remember falling asleep in front of the TV and waking up to the white light and the test pattern and “eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…”

The city has a way of reminding me where I’ve been and how far we have come.  Bright lights and cool mornings at bus stops, fifteen years later riding the same trains and eating ginger beef at Tiki Ming with five hundred thousand more people than when I left…but so much is the same.

Meanwhile, I’ve traded my Patagonia and my Olukai’s for Dolce suits and shiny capped toed Too Boot New York’s but the words are still right here at the tips of my fingers, at the tip of my tongue, in stolen moments with pencils and note books between daydreams and stations…right where I left them.

Where to begin?  Right where I left off.

CLICK! Writers, Gods and the Death of the White Noise

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