butchering the english language since 1985
rich in history, like the tomb of tutankhamen

exercise three: tina.

my house is a goldmine. sometimes i take running leaps and dive into the piles in the front room of the house, swimming in the most unusual sea known to man. my grandmother collects this stuff, and i used to resent it because it made my home look like a giant version of a bag lady's shopping cart. that kind of thing hits too close to home sometimes. i never wanted my friends to come over, seeking refuge in the only place over which i could reign supreme: my room. i always kept it so clean to remind myself that i'm not like her, not a hoarder, not a grubby old woman wrapped in gray rags and torn shoes digging unscrupulously through the trashcan into which i just threw a half-eaten ham sandwich. but i've thought about it over the years and i've come to the conclusion that i'm not living in disaster or clutter, but in the friendly company of hundreds of memories, whether they're mine or someone else's. all of these things have a history, garbage or not. school papers and drawings tell the stories of six distinct childhoods with crisscrossing paths and i wouldn't trade anything in the world for them, the stories of us, overcoming adversity together like a family straight out of a novel, we're the bobbsey twins, the hardy boys. old christmas tree ornaments and dried evergreen needles are mixed in boxes with gelt and cheap plastic dreidels.

maybe those bag ladies have got something right. maybe they occupy their lonely days and nights making up stories about the personal histories of each of their found trinkets. maybe i'll be a bag lady when i grow up. so if you're in the city in ten years, and you're about to recycle that copy of that letter you've written and rewritten a zillion times to the girl you're in love with, think of me, and throw it out in a trash can in the park instead. future me appreciates it, and tips her filth-sodden orange winter cap at you.

last five entries:
blisters and bruises - 03.18.08
dorsey - 03.13.07
finding peace - 02.02.07
unintentional clean slate - 09.11.06
natural born cyborg - 06.23.06

currently
12.14.04
10:10 pm

quote
this memory of you holds more than a photograph. it's much more than a book of old pictures locked away without a name.