close_your_eyes tender_square she instructed. we were to imagine a space that we were comfortable in. i obliged in the exercise. without much inner prompting, the image that materialized was my living room. what are the textures, she asked. i felt the plush turquoise carpet under my bare feet, the ribbed soft pink blanket draped over my body, the stiff couch cushions supporting me. what does it look like, she wondered. i watched the white veils flutter in front of the picture window, taunted by breeze, diffusing the light into warm milk. what do you hear, she questioned. the fuzz and hiss of vinyl sounded to my right, softly, one of my father’s records. i hadn’t known this room was my salve and consolation, i’d misplaced how much peace and solitude it used to offer, before the tenant came, his energy a menacing cloud threatening thunder. 230626 ... raze i found the flyer at the bottom of a box heavy with water-damaged treasure. it was no bigger than a business card. these words were layered over the blurry image of a glowing green eye, with each letter as far from its brethren as the width of the card stock would allow: "slow music for fast times." it was an outgrowth of a radio program i didn't listen to as much as i wanted to. the sonic slackening happened every tuesday night. i never got to experience it. did i cause myself harm by hiding from people who wouldn't have seen me even if i prostrated myself on the stage they made their temple? or was i wise to stay away, sculpting my own soundtrack out of the twisted sinew of solitude? 230626 what's it to you? who go blather from