write_it_all_down fyn gula so he stops at the shop he once went to with fred, when summer was high, when friends were gathered to celebrate independance day, when fireflies were free fireworks, and he drank too much, telling kara things a parent is not supposed to. he's alone this time and he buys yuengling black and tan. it's a young girl that sells it to him and he wonders if she is even old enough to drink it. he is. drinking alone is one of the saddest things a person can do. that's what he's been told. but it's fun in this quiet mountain, with snow falling and roads empty. he drives as if his car is on a track, an amusement park ride built in 1932, when safety came before anything. he pulls into the driveway and there she is in the shadows of the shed light waxing her snowboard. he tells her how he usd to buy dr.zog's sex wax for his surfboard, trying to avoid suspicion, wondering if he could smell it on his breath. so he walks out to the stone wall he is building around the vegetable garden, drinks the second bottle, popping the cap with his leatherman, thinking of those days he rode the bike to the sea in the early morning when the surf was glassy and high. he'd be half frozen, hardly able to turn the knob of the apartment door. and then after a shower, he'd ride to his job at the health food store where he was the only boy working with eight girls, some who became sweet friends, some he fell in love with. he drinks the third and goes inside to write it all down. 010307 what's it to you? who go blather from