Mom called to say I should pick up coleslaw she made this evening I had started barbecuing two chickens so after dinner I took her barbecued chicken I also made spaghetti with mushrooms and steamed zucchini mom looked kind of sleepy she said Hannah called her and was getting over a cold sometimes I think I’ll write dad a letter but it’s all imaginary letters to him from here on his ashes are in a plastic box on the bookshelf I didn’t talk about it with anybody really but unless people have a better idea I suppose I will take his ashes to some wide open pretty spot (on a mountainside, or on the ocean) and toss them into the wind. Jacob’s Room by Virginia Woolf is about a young guy’s life in England where he’s not up to much he’s a college student or something, the paragraphs are free-flowing and remind me of Kerouac. The life of the imagination and memory and words and breath and night and worlds and days that flow all through our lives one into another into the next on and on like the wind thru some wide open spot.

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