Jack Swain, staff writer

The sunlight that streams through our windows, yours and mine.

The bugs that live in our houses, in our carpets.

Whatever human quality necessitated the invention of picture frames.

Elegant chairs.

Life-sized scale replicas of dinosaurs.

Calling people on the phone when they are far away and you can hear their voice.

The Atom Bomb and the Berlin Wall.

It reminds me of a Kurt Vonnegut quote, “People so nice you can’t believe it, and people so mean you can’t believe it.”

(I remember in middle school this girl Angela’s dad died and they announced it to everyone over the loudspeakers. I was in English class. I think we were doing a vocab test.

I got an email today from my old friend, Thomas. He signed his email “Tom” which made me smile. We used to be very close, you know. We had the same bus stop in Minnesota. His dad taught me how to drive a car, on a frozen lake of all places).

Falling asleep in the car, or driving a car full of sleeping people, listening to quiet music.

Those dressing room mirrors with all the light bulbs.

(I often pretend to myself that I’m being interviewed on late-night television. I’d like the glamour).

In a letter, the pauses between sentences are more important than the sentences themselves.

That’s the truth.

I remember when my parents told us we were moving back to the states my sister cried all day.

And the Earth keeps going.

Dorothea lived alone. She lived in a single-room flat on the north end of Parkview and worked at the florist’s. She spent her time listening to Louis Armstrong records. They belonged to her husband. She only lets herself visit his grave once a week.

I think I put too many expectations on myself.

(Row row row your boat).

If you are someone who smokes cigarettes I think you should stop.

What do you think happens when you die? (This question is half-joke, half-plea).

Who is gonna be living in your bedroom twenty years from now? What problems will they have?

My mom knitted me a really warm Gryffindor scarf. My mom is an angel.

What do you think of those people who don’t like to dance?

Oh yeah baby. Rock and roll.

Do you have any tattoos or scars? (That’s a hypothetical question).

Donald was a hermit. He lived thirty meters underground, in a medium-sized metal tunnel. The walls of the tunnel were painted dark blue to mimic a twilight sky. Twilight was Donald’s favorite time of day. It was late morning, and a package arrived.

Someone out there is curing cancer right now, and someone else is designing bombs. What am I doing?

I hope you have a good day. I hope you really do. Whoever you are. I hope you don’t get too worried about things that don’t matter in the end. I hope you smile and laugh and stuff. Really.

“And it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant, and whatever a sun will always sing is you.”