Ernest Hemingway:

As Ernest Hemingway once said...
'All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.'

Monday, November 27, 2006

quoth the tiger...NEVERMORE!

We went to the old stomping grounds this weekend to watch the Mizzou Tigers plow all over the icky KU Jayhawks 42 to 17. It's always great to see the Tigers beat the Jayhawks in any sport. The best t-shirt we saw was one that said 'KU Sucks' on the front, 'And Swallows' on the back. Wrong, but good.

We went to the game with friends we haven't seen in a while. We all used to go to games together after graduation at least once a year, but it's dwindled a bit since then. It was a blast seeing everyone. How they drank from 9AM until that evening blows my mind. They're a very spirited group, and always make games interesting. We even got on the jumbotron.

We also took a trip down memory lane...better known as Wilson Avenue. Both Q and I lived there for a time during college. Wilson Avenue is part of East Campus - keg party central (not affiliated with any frats/sororities, other than being flanked by them on College Avenue). There are so very many memories there. So much fun, debauchery, and even missed opportunities. A lifetime's worth. The one thing that really gets me every time we go down Wilson is the absence of the house of some very good friends. It was plowed a few years back to make room for the expansion of one of the fraternities. Shorty's boyfriend lived there, as well as three other guys, guys we knew since the second semester of our freshman year, guys who we were close to and remained inextricably linked to throughout the rest of our college years. These memories always involve Shorty of course, as well as memories of Matt, who was killed by a drunk driver. There was a spell when we were there more than at our own place. It was a place I walked by every single day; a place where friends were met, feelings were acted on, way too much Killian's Red was drank.

That house was such a special place, and knowing I'll never see it again is a difficult thing to face. At least the rest of the street is still standing, though probably a little worse for the wear. My old house is there, probably still with a cicada caulked to the living room window. I guess it added a little reality to a dark, cozy room, one wall coated with a pretty good rendition of Van Gogh's 'Starry Night'. We didn't get to see any of the new residents at 1513, but I hope they're as rowdy and goofy as we were. I hope they're having the time of their lives.

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