Pink Floyd, esp. Dark Side of the Moon
Not only do I listen to em on the increasingly obnoxious YouTube with its ads popping out like punches to your jaw, (okay, take it easy, Ruthie) but I also google the groups. Are they people just like you and me?
You bet they are until they let their passions consume them!
So where did I meet young Greg, which is not his real name cuz he doesn't know I'm writing about him and doesn't have time to waste like you do reading my blog.
Poetry Night was about a month ago at the Elkins Park Library.
The room was packed, as always. I started taking mental notes just in case some local paper let me write an article about the event. One paper did but they screwed me out of paying me. The editor told me to write a 900-word story but then published it as an unpaid Guest Column. Clever move, MM.
Thanks for letting me vent. (People always say this to me.)
At the library I sit next to a handsome young man w/honey-blond hair falling to the middle of his back and a sky-blue tie-dyed T-shirt. Just moved here from Pittsburgh to live with his dad and finish up high school.
I didn't say nothin but I thought to myself, his mother is either mentally ill or a drug addict. Turns out, says young Greg, she is both.
I did write about him in my Guest Column and we've become pen pals. At 18, he's working on his first novel. I wrote him not to lose his idealism and his enthusiasm.
And now, back to the Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd.