...I start believing she was my classmate,
that he was my president,
that I had lived on the twilight side of the hill (as opposed to the morning side of the mountain),
that, while I couldn't always get what I had wanted, when I had tried, I always got what I needed,
that I could, in fact, forget domani (since tomorrow never comes),
and that I had been either here:
or here:
or here:
or here (damn it)!
Showing posts with label Rolling Stones. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rolling Stones. Show all posts
10 February 2011
How far into my dotage (a ways off still, I think) before...
Labels:
70s television,
Baseball,
Brady Bunch,
China,
Cincinnati Reds,
Donny and Marie Osmond,
Egypt,
Frank Sinatra,
Germany,
Memory,
Rolling Stones,
West Wing,
World Series
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