(1) The new Eddie Vedder. (2) That Glen Hansard plays on it. And Elton John. And Stevie Wonder (on harmonica). And the homage to Tom Petty on it. (3) Also that Vedder’s dad is on it. It was the line, “o dear dad, can you see me now, i am myself like you somehow” that, back in the early 1990s, made me feel connected to this young man’s music (and to myself, and to my own dad, and to the catharsis of making something out of the stuff that makes us feel… Yeah. The stuff that makes us feel. Period. End-stop.). (4) Feeling. Stuff. (5) This interview. (6) One foot in front of the other. One word and the next one and the next one. (7) The topography just west and north of Birmingham, Alabama. (8) The rock park, with S–, who loves rocks. (9) Talking about poems. (10) Sound sleep. (11) A nice hot shower. (12) Ice cold water. (13) Text threads with friends you’ve known for 30 years. (14) Other text threads with (other) friends you’ve known for 20 years. (15) The Younger Dryas. (16) Seeing construction workers, early on a Saturday morning, testing out the new skateboard half-pipe underneath the interstate by where I park at work. Hard-hats, high-visibility orange shirts, skateboards. Zooming. Just zooming. (17) Earnestness. (18) Steadiness. (19) My plain black ballcap. (20) My plain blue ballcap. (21) My new slipper-socks. (22) Breathing, praying, saying the mantras. Feeling that as no special thing. Not expecting too much from it. Also not expecting too much from what is making me anxious. (23) The Alabama Writers’ Cooperative. (24) Jason McCall poems, namely: (25) I Just Want to Live Long Enough to See Allen Iverson Live Long Enough to Get His Reebok Check and (26) My Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandfather Who Owned My Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandmother Also Owned a Jewelry Store and a Railroad, So He Probably Had a Dope Watch (27) Atlantis. Which is to say: (28) the Azores plateau. Which is to say: (29) All the things we do not know. Or: (30) All the things we have forgotten.