I remember so many times stepping out at night and cursing at the cold. Shuffling toward Kennedy Plaza, the 7-11 for a pack of Camel Silvers, or a Red Bull, or a Rockstar, or that little blue bottled agave energy drink, or horrible little taquitos, or a hot dog.

I remember Vasily loved 7-11 hot dogs. and chicken.

I remember stumbling in the street well past midnight with other masses of debauchery ablur, the pavement a gray smear in front of me.

I remember cobblestone and brick. The hunched shoulders of the cold and the yellow light of late night lamp posts. Passing other strangers in the night.

I remember not remembering and having friends tell me what I did.

I remember waking up fully clothed in my own bed with sore calves, and trying to figure out how the hell I got back there.

I remember getting to studio on many early crisp Saturday mornings before anyone else got there, so I'd be all by myself. I would stare out the window at Prov-Wash before finally getting to work.

I remember talking to girlfriends, my parents, exes, high school friends on the phone while pacing around in the back room of the 7th floor studio. Or sitting by the window and staring down at the traffic on North Main.