I guess I'm gonna start this as my "journal no one ever reads" journal, because if there isn't at least the illusion of someone reading, I find it harder to write effectively. The possibility of audience gives me a reason to focus and articulate.

Because of the holiday, I found myself thinking about Scott Kirkpatrick, He was a DC poet who I met on the road in 2000 and had bonded with pretty strongly. I had kind of a crush on him.

The last contact I had with him was when I was down in the DC/Baltimore area to do a couple gigs and I crashed at the place he and a bunch of other guys (non-poets) lived at. I was kind of an obnoxious jackass in a lot of ways on that trip. I don't feel like recounting them right now. But that was the last contact we ever had. There was no big fight or anything, it's just I think I let my guard down enough to really weird him out and offend or hurt him a few too many times. I don't have any clear recollection of what year beyond that it was '01-'04.

Not too long ago-- a couple years maybe-- I was wondering what he'd been up to, so I googled him, and found this:

http://www.details.com/culture-tren.....tt-kirkpatrick

For me, Scott is the face of the tragedy of war.