I turned 42 today and, in the words of some folk song I've heard somewhere between Oct. 7, 1965 and now, "all my life's a circle ..."
All the other Small Times founding editors are gone now, after having left it a shell of its former self. Now, it is just another freelance gig for me, but one that I view as a lost child come home.
Who is the lost child? Me? Or the publication I had poured my life into from 2001-2004? Not certain.
Take it, Harry:
All my life's a circle
Still I wonder why
Seasons spinning 'round again
Years keep rolling by
Happy birthday to me ...
NanoKabbalah in Salon on my birthday: Coincidence?