Today my father would have turned 62. I haven't thought about that as much as I did last year at this time, mostly because I've got two pieces due and I've been listening to thudding Danny Elfman commentary tracks for something like twelve hours straight and I have all the signs of a migraine coming on, which makes thinking about anything besides the fetal position very difficult.
I wonder what he would be reading, now? How far along in his "history of the world" reading project he would be? Maybe I'll read something for him, when my head stops hurting.
