the following poem was based on the first line...i liked the phrase so a poem followed.

cameras keep us
rectangles of personal history
that blur the lines between
what is memory and what is simply documentation?
yellow t-shirts
ewok villages
sweaty hair
was this me?
is this me?
my memory betrays me
am i remembering the event itself?
or am i remembering this little thing?

also, if you want some super cool music go to epitonic, i've linked it. you can create what they call a "blackbox" and put all kinds of nifty hard to find tunes in it. it's fun! and somewhat productive! sheesh! what more could you want?!?!