Tonight I attended the second installment of the 2007-2008 literary series at Richard Hugo House, a local writing center. Their theme was "We Could Be Heroes," and after listening to Jack Hitt (frequently of "This American Life") read a new and off-centeredly hilarious piece that culminated in his being a pallbearer at his childhood-best friend's funeral (how can I put this? it included Vikings!), I walked out into the dark damp neighborhood restless and exhilerated, back to my car. A garage, up the street from Hugo House, was tagged with a variety of signs and signatures, a hasty doodle of a toothsome monster, and this message: she's like that with everybody.
As I so frequently do, I longed for a camera. I may yet go back and snap that, tomorrow. Not quite Wooster Collective material, maybe, but it was exactly what I needed, 10 p.m. on a November Friday night, my head crowded and cluttered with other people's words.