Author: Matt

NON-MAUDLIN MEMORIES Each one of us is a repository. Like flypaper, time and its detritus clings to us, often unknown except at a subliminal level. Allow me to troll the lake of my mind and give evidence of that gone except in mind. I recall adults telling us “Hey, kids get…

In the summer of ’69 I was driving a cab in Manhattan, from about 6 pm to about 4 in the morning. I averaged about 200 miles in a shift, about the distance from Queens to Woodstock. Often my right knee would ache from the stop and go traffic of…

                                                                         EXISTENCE IS A VAST BLUNDER. I’M OK WITH THAT.             I remember the fallen giant hulk of a tree from a hurricane and how we scampered and crawled across that druidic, earth-smelling thing before chainsaws were common. It was cut down by hand, and we had days to…

In 1952 I went to Surprise Lake Camp for two weeks. It was in Cold Springs, New York. It would prove a memorable moment in my life. No clocks were allowed, and the time was never given to the campers, for some camp wizard knew the wisdom of durational time.…