Q

personal stuff. like for this blog.

it has been sadly barren for too long.

part of the reason, i suspect, is that the role this blog has in my life has been usurped. i already have someone who listens with attention as rapt as my imaginary blog audience to all i need to say – the mundane to the dramatic; the gratuitous theorizing and endless analyzing of human behavior; the nonsense the rants and (sometimes) inspired insights. hi Hansies.

but i need to come back to this space because writing about my life is a thing. not just documenting but making sense of. what i’ve criticized about this space: that it forces me to filter and euphemize, is also part of its merit. all i experience is shaped by how i perceive, and how i perceive is informed by my filtering.

mere documenting isn’t enough anymore, because i don’t remember what my more nuanced thoughts about the happenings were.

so much words.

every May since 2012, without fail, i think about you again.

we spent no more than a night and day together. june through april you stay clear of my thoughts. and them BOOM. may – you again. tiny fledgling, raw and pink and grotesque. how is it that you crop up so uncannily on the anniversary of your death, some kind of macabre annual clockwork?

you make me think about death. how it is natural, expected, sometimes inconsequential because millions of tiny ones like you go every day. but if you’re lucky enough (or does it even matter to you?) someone remembers yours.