A remembering list.

Here are things for remembering:

1. The way you could feel the sharp tips of nails through the carpet, as you walked barefoot or in socks, up the stairs to the attic of gramma and grampa's knowlesville house.

2. The rock that had the fossil that resembled a demon's head, that was split into two with a hammer and chisel, down the middle of the face, by me at thirteen or fourteen, maybe, and one was cast into the weeds behind the house, and one was cast into the lake, i think, though i do not remember which lake. Nor do i remember the point of casting the mating rock pieces into different locations, but it felt like something that i should do because i might have read it in a fantasy novel.

3. That "why don't you talk to me??" song by pink floyd which was popular at the time, playing on the radio as i drove april home, who i could not talk to even though i wanted to. Ultimately i ended up saying "bye" as she left the car. Earlier, i had said "hello." But that was about it. The song was just a metaphoric punch in the face, and also maybe Ironic.

4. Being lost in the vines, panicking, calling out "help!", answered by buffy, who barked, whose bark i followed, forty feet away to salvation. I was six or maybe seven.

5. The potion called "Grahs", in a small plastic bottle normally used for trumpet valve oil. 90% of the concoction was derived from a controlled and unabated nosebleed. After three months, blood smells an awful lot like diarrhea. Perfect for dousing the woolly interiors of rivals' instrument cases.

6. Herman, whose whiskers i sheared, to make him more more pulchritudinous. Who never came back after that night, causing me to realize: cat whiskers have some degree of importance.