wetness and wistfulness


Yesterday we went to the Farmers Market at Union Square to pick up some seedlings for the great Tomato-rific Plantathon at our farm on Saturday. You bastards are lucky I stopped writing on the weekends, or you’d be forced to hear about my new tomato heirlooms: the Pink Brandywines, the Yellow Zebras, the Abe Lincolns, and all the other rare finds that are going to be enjoyed

0 thoughts on “wetness and wistfulness

  1. Jordana

    i was also a member of the 1995 park royalty and only went swimming once. actually, i think it was with dan (and johnny knight). dan?

  2. Annie

    I, too, get painfully nostalgic for those early Pink House days–how many times, seeking respite from the slings and arrows of erratic and one-sided love, did I plod upstairs to U-turn into Ian and Scott’s room (although the only evidence that Scott actually lived there are Ian’s pictures) and plunk down on the bed to moan a few bars of the neverending blues, while Ian tap-tap-tapped away with the industry that seems as though it might have finally earned him something, somewhere (our fingers are crossed for y’all!)…Even though I’m still here Chapping my way through my thirties, no set of memories will ever replace the summers of the mid-90s.

  3. Ian

    Yeah, it’s funny how certain eras coalesce together – through a variety of circumstances – to make a general “fun time.” There’s a picture of Annie and I from that same bed:
    Carla – yes, the Pink House is still there, still full of kids, except now that have AIR CONDITIONING and WIRELESS BROADBAND INTERNET. That is so fucking unfair!


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