Current mood:	thoughtful
Current music:	Istanbul (Not Constantinople) by They Might Be Giants

Excerpts from And Still We Sleep #3
Here are a few excerpts from issue #3 of my zine:

"...the zipline that I'd long outgrown was now a rusted, useless string of metal, and the old red pickup truck, whose bed I'd spent so many hours playing in, had been sold. Even the toads and salamanders I caught in empty ice cream buckets and butter tubs seemed to have disappeared. Not to mention, Gram and Pap were becoming the one thing I could never imagine them being when I was little--old. I couldn't, and still can't, figure out if these changes had been sparked by the ice storm, like an avalanche waiting for the tiniest of vibration to set it falling, or if they'd been going on slowly, all this time, and I'd never even noticed."

"I shiver in the cold, bringing myself out of reminiscence. The room is so quiet, eerie, disconcerting, like I'm expecting ghosts to come out of the walls, that it sends another chill down my spine. Everything here, I realize, looks stripped of life, from the naked bed to the dead insects on the floor, to the toys I'd nearly forgotten. Dead ducks and birthday parties I can't remember and costume jewelry that doesn't fit."

"Sometimes, when he's watching cartoons on Nickelodeon, I want to sit down next to him and say, 'Tell me about the war. I want to know everything.' I want to know what it felt like and if he killed people and if his friends' names are on the wall in Washington, D.C, but I can never get up the courage to ask him, and I'm afraid someday he'll die without my ever having asked, and then I'll never know."