notes on the first day of august

by practicalspactical

the first cd I ever bought was August and Everything After by the Counting Crows | next week, if all goes well, I go to see them with my lover | she wants to see the Counting Crows, she says, and I want to see her | did I have the Courage of my Convictions, done my One Good Thing, acquitting the boy who may or may not have known what was in the bootbox | one hundred and thirty five grams of cocaine | I, Juror | and now, biggest thing, emigrating to a new country, Manhattan Central, or maybe Brooklyn, joining the great stream |

I was supposed to be a writer, supposed to be an author, an auteur, an artist, an existential hero, the Speaker of Truth, and now I am a jurist, a lawyer-in-training, a slick-tongued obfuscating persuader, hiding pure partisanship behind misplaced appeals to authority — original sin of the originalists —

I do like history, the hard work of dead folks, and law is a particular kind of history, one we endeavor to learn from — perhaps it is sufficient

Elsewhere is hopping, having their biggest artist ever for the exact same days I venture upup to New York City, to get by spot in the Triangle Shirtwaist Sweatshop and McCracken, LLP, sewing wordbriefs —