where we began

We grew up in a land of pizza places and churches and the deification of all male youth. Relief was a 30-minute bus ride away, to the city where we used to hang out in the "pit" with the blue-haired punk wannabes and run around the street eating pizza ("buck a slice!") and buying 25 cent Little Debbie snack cakes and trying to one-up each other with our music purchases. It would be easy to be wistfully nostalgic about it, but all that running around was part of the heartwrenching, confusing emotional turmoil of youth. I only wish it was farther behind me. And didn't continue into your adulthood.

But damn if the sugar-packed snack cakes didn't keep you going for hours.

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