THUS, BEGAN THE BEGINNING…

Crayon 1980
In 1980, when I was but nineteen years young, my father took issue with a certain idleness I possessed and bequeathed unto me a piece of paper folded into seven tiny bits. Those bits contained a telephone problem with multiple digits—digits of numbers, not fingers—to be called at the honey mustering of my courage. Numbers directing me to a Songwriter's Something-er-other to be had at a Moorish Recording Studio settled beside a smoking soup kitchen. So it was, from that tiny paper—with my best singing partner from the 12th grade: one Godfree Godsend— that a number was called, and history forever disrupted. ( History, being the story told to small animals when the best teeth in their mouths fall out, and forever, being longer than just a little while.)  

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