Why do this?
Because I need to.
A barrage of images, experiences, observations and opinions have piled up in my mind and it’s time to clean out the closet. On first inspection, my life is like some random book of stories that some terribly disorganized editor threw together at the last minute. There are snippets and snapshots of varying characters which seem to have no continuity or commonality interspersed with lengthy novellas that are so cliche it makes my eyes roll. It reminds me of the combinations of patterns and textures that I see the old women wear in Chinatown on very cold days. None of it works together. Yet in those lucid moments where I have met with some form of awareness and peace, I begin noticing a pattern. I might even call it beautiful, but then, perhaps I am just hopeful. Maybe if I put all of the words pushing against the back of my eyes down and spread them out, I will see where the puzzle pieces fit… Maybe I can make the story make sense. Give it a meaningful plotline. Maybe if I can stop carrying this cargo of history and myth around in my heart and leave it here, just maybe I will be able to walk lighter and pick up a few new trinkets along the way….
And so I’ll write. I have no idea what it will come out like- if it will be an orgy of self indulgence or something that someone else can find meaning or, at least, pleasure in. As when one cleans out a closet, I will be emptying out everything I find, dumping it out on the floor as I come to each package. Indiscriminately and in bits and pieces. Parts of my life flung atop random pieces of fantasy next to broken shards of old dreams. Basically, making one hell of a mess. But with a purpose… which I hope to find along the way.
Imaginably, this is my verbal garage sale.
So please, take what you like and leave what you don’t.