shrinking raze it's funny. the things you remember. and the things you don't. i've forgotten everything she said to me on the phone. the hitch in her voice is still there. so are the tears i didn't get to see. but whatever brought them on is long gone. what's left of the afternoon we spent together is this: she offered to make us lunch. she showed up late with a carrot and an apple. she didn't make anything. i had to salvage a salad out of borrowed taproot and what was already nesting in the fridge. she insisted on playing and singing at the same time. so there was no possibility of separation. the vocal mic was so far from her mouth, it might as well have not even been there. i ended up junking it in the mix. i used the microphone i aimed at her guitar. one track. that was it. not my finest day in the studio. but it worked better than it should have. the sound of her fingers unscrewing the top of her stainless steel water bottle was more interesting than most of her songs. one of them has stayed with me. just four chords and some words about loons. she stopped playing halfway through to imitate their call, looked at me with her red eyes, and dove down out of my sight. i haven't seen her since. 221016 what's it to you? who go blather from