Waking up at 10am with bedhead and in
desperate need of a shower that last nights skateboard excursion
helped bring about due to the hours of skating across town, tearing
up the streets and having the time of our lives free to do as we
please, go where we please; and do it all free of homework, tests,
and often, fortunately or unfortunately, all without parental
supervision to let us know that it was all quite dangerous and
potentially adverse to our health; bumping into drunks and the
homeless unaware if they were sane and realizing all too often they
they were not as they asked to climb onto one of our boards and glide
down the street just as one would expect a drunk to do, almost
killing themselves while we stood nervously and laughed about leaving
the house at 11pm to skate after eating so late; most likely pizza
and a bottle of soda; imperfect fuel for a perfect day going out into
the woods and playing guns, building forts; grass stains and mud on
our faces, letting our imaginations not only run wild, but giving
them a form and structure as we assembled our battlegrounds in the
forests and fought tirelessly to take the next hill and explore
uncharted territory, occasionally stumbling onto private property, or
city property; all very exciting and dangerous to a bunch of stupid
kids spending their summer day inviting friends over to play video
games; cereal and milk in unending supply; TV's and consoles
scattered throughout the house along with pillows and blankets,
tangled wires and sore muscles, shouts of laughter filling every
room, every space a memory and every person a story of a day waking
up at 10am with bedhead and in desperate need of a shower.
Ordinarily I'd hassle a student for a chunk of prose this long without paragraphing, but I see that here form follows function. Those days were a jumble of sensation and action, and to parcel that stuff out into neat grafs has to run counter to the spirit of those days. So, yes to no-paragraph breaks, and yes to the insistent semicolon, and yes to that long-ago-and-now-recollected jumble of sensation and action.
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