December 2010
5 posts
1 tag
3 tags
I almost never choose to *not* go someplace.
From when I was able to go outside without my mother or great-grandparents, freedom was given to me as a task, as matter of necessity, and as a treat. I walked whenever possible on the sunny side of the street. I like freedom. The choices that must be made; the fears overcome and given into. The sacrifices eased into consciously, and sometimes, as if in a dream. The more freedom, the more one...
3 tags
My beginnings are too far away to even think of...
But the middle makes no sense and ceases to matter without harebrained efforts to recall those first truly conscious moments—naked in the bathtub with my sister, at a department store called White Front for a portrait, bedtime terror of the Zodiac Killer—the moments that make you know you are alive apart from the people who are there to guide and to teach and ostensibly, to protect.
—from one of...
4 tags
I’m not playing hard-to-get as much as actually...
I like the present—it moves. I like digital time as opposed to the clock of real life. I like better who I am than who I was. I like to think I am all me as opposed to all the people and events who have poured and bored themselves in. I like nows more than thens. Beginnings remembered are far worse than endings, which like tar muck up then melt but harden into something that can be walked over,...
4 tags
It’s the ones with the most to talk about that...
Over drinks yes, that is fine. Chat-talk-sip-gulp-chew-the-cherry-chat. On Twitter: LOL. Sharp, in-the-moment blog entries—or, as they used to be called, columns—that’s easy-breezy. But to wrap it up burrito-style? There is resistance. Or at least, there is mine.
—from one of many memoir drafts; Danyel Smith/2010
