BLUE RIDGE RANGER

Charlottesville exists in my memory as a place where I left something.

Something less than vital, but more than trivial. Something undefined.

So every time I visit, I feel like I'm looking for it, whatever it is. And of course I never find it...

On Sunday, I stood in Plan 9 flipping through racks of used CDs. Occasionally I picked up a disc in which I had no interest, like Teenage Symphonies to God by Velvet Crush, and entertained the possibility that this exact disc had been part of their stock for the last 13 years. And that I might have passed over this exact disc back in 1994.

And in some strange way, this made me feel almost as if I had found what I was searching for...