A couple of years ago, as part of my mom's ongoing quest to relieve her basement of all the shit that spontaneously piles up because she might actually, you know, use it one day, she made me spend an afternoon sifting through the boxes of crap that I'd left behind when I moved away a dozen years prior. Among the contents: a random assortment of old stereo equipment, a handful of polished rocks, a few computer diskettes and a stack of notebooks containing my first awkward attempts... More >>>