is there something i have not yet said? actively writing is interesting in the sense i am constantly writing. all sorts of things. but this internal tap on the shoulder is different. who? me? yeah, you! not for the brand, not for the audience, not for the past or the future, not for the poetry, but for this Thursday morning we’ve never had before.
i wake up so new each day i worry i have temporary amnesia. but, no. this is my love, my dog, my home, my couch, my face, my unruly hair, and coffee before water. i’m still me. me and just me. there’s this humble bug in me. a modest mouse and a sweet girl who just wishes to be. after a while, being “known” gets old. not for long, but as long as the mouse, the bug, and the girl are left behind with no one to play with, bored. i have a story for all of those things. especially, the mouse. i wonder if my older cousin remembers. i’m a storyteller, i’m an experiencer. a do and run and tell about it. a show off and show and tell fanatic. always have been, always will be.
hey— why don’t you just come on in? i’ll show you my stuff. what do you think of the place? the little girl speaks only with her eyes. okay…fine…the mouse without a tail shows it’s teeth and i laugh. the bug scans the place with a chained pocket magnified glass that he held up to his 18th eye. he wears slips over his feet and gloves too. a N95 mask and takes slow steps leaving behind a perfumed whiff of lemon and eucalyptus multipurpose cleaner. and there’s only one of him. he’s big enough to see and he’s always been with me…
i’m just kidding lmfao. i don’t know that man. i just made him up. i like to tell stories because i like to engage and connect with others. i like to exaggerate, and laughs and bring it back, to show you it’s okay to do so. it’s like, people who listen to me, can too get close to my minds eye. that perhaps, they too would like a tour of my mind and then go off and take inventory of their own. you can’t stay long, but you can stay alive.
here’s what happened:
i had to write things down to remember them. otherwise, i realized life moves quickly, just way too quickly, and the bad sticks to the walls my mind like finished pasta. i write to go back and remember it wasn’t all bad. and that it was even kind of funny. but it wasn’t all easy. either way, i am still here. with my mind, my eyes, and my skill.