A Tom Texter Moment

Jenn and I were decompressing before bed, flipping channels. I stopped on Sundance or Flix, a musicmentary or docusical, whatever, I knew the music. I listened, trying to place it. Suddenly, in my mind, I saw an attic in Reading. Not mine, the stairs came up in the middle. Red curatins, I think, though they were probably sheets.

I was watching the Pixies sing Surfer Rosa and other 'hits', and the images I saw were Tom's room, with LP's we'd driven to Lancaster or York to buy.

I wonder where Tom is these days...