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Our son is 18 today. Not today as I write the words, but today as you read them—October 7th. It should feel momentous and yet...I don’t know that it does. We’ve already burned through so many markers, the ones that elevated and the ones that drove us under; those that lingered, and the few that quickly faded into memory. Each one transcendent and yet, banal anaesthetics, accumulating in our hearts and minds. There’s a certain numbness to time. Jacob is 18 and he was born yesterday, with wild hair and a body so tiny I could almost hold him between a few fingers. We knew nothing then, and probably even less now. We saw eternity ahead of us, but it was only seconds, barely enough for one full breath. In. Out. Again. ... The links this week have a distinct writer’s vibe, but I hope you’ll enjoy them anyway— Patti Smith certainly straddles the fence with her Polaroid work. But the Lou Reed piece was just beautiful to read. It immediately struck a chord and I felt like sharing. Both pieces are about time too, in a way, so there’s a certain method to the madness ;) Here we go... NOTE: For some reason the Patti Smith interview (and poem) I wanted to link to is no longer available. It’s completely gone from the website, a few days after being published. I’ve added another piece instead, from the same interviewer and subject.
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