sweet lady breakneck


I’m starting to miss my notebooks and scrapbooks. Even though through the years I have toyed with the idea of torching them in a very melodramatic fashion, maybe dancing barefoot in their ashes at sundown.  Or maybe shredding them with my bare hands and flinging them off very high buildings so that the confetti of my wrenched/wretched soul rained down in a million scattered spider-written particles upon the city far far below.

Ha. How’s that for dramatic. I’m just kidding though, sort of. If I did away with them I wouldn’t have stuff like this, or even this, to look back on with a sense of mystification or to question my sanity over. And how much fun would that be. (I’d say not much at all, probably, if I’m allowed to answer my own rhetorical question.)

I fossicked about for a bit tonight to try and find anything at all that might assuage my sudden scrapbook-longing. Just some random scribbles or notes, or anything, really. I did find a pencil drawing of Simon that I did about eight years ago. It doesn’t really look anything like him. Not because he has changed dramatically in appearance in that time, I’m guessing, but because it never looked anything like him. 

I found part of a, um, I don’t know – noncommittal vignette? – called HERO SLAYS NINJA (don’t ask), some work notes, a mean half-poem entitled I liked you better when you hated yourself (don’t ask), a very long and quite accurate description of one of my cats, some bills, a $100 voucher (bonus) and some promotional fridge magnets.

I still felt a bit sad, even after finding all these aforementioned treasures. It’s not the same as my giant stack of ancient cloth-bound notebooks. One day soon, hopefully, I will be reunited with them. And then my sporadic journal-excerpt plunderings/exhumations/postings may resume.

But rather than dwell on my absent paper collection this evening I set about and made sweet Lady Breakneck.



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