Saturday, May 24, 2014

ever the archivist

This is my last weekend living in Pittsburgh. Initially I expected for this to be a very late/early morning Saturday excursion with much debauchery in various parts of the city. But nah. I went way too hard on Thursday night and paid for it all day Friday and some of today. Instead of painting the town any sort of farewell hue, I am indoors drinking Gatorade and setting my alarm for an early morning. I did some more packing and started quite a large archiving project--exporting my Livejournal entries month by month to my drive. I've thrown away so many handwritten, hard copy poems both finished and unfinished--the amount of words alone in trash bags right now is enough to make me hide my face. The incredible number of sentences that remained silently sat upon for years...no more. I am both proud and slightly dizzy.

The placing of objects into boxes and the clearing of space has been inspiring. That need to share/overshare everything flew the coop some time ago--certainly a product of aging as well as the increasing speed of technology. That need, as I call it, has changed. I'd rather explore that feeling within my writing much more than I care to explore it on something like Facebook status. Speaking of Facebook, I found myself tickled ridiculous with realizing that I am friends with people that wouldn't even bother to say hello to me in person. Maybe we all have a column of this type checked, but the more I give it thought the more it bothers me. It seems...pointless? Or kind of like sticking your foot in to wedge a door open that should be simply closed. Or flinging a door open to a room that you honestly have zero interest in. Us humans are funny like that I guess.

See? This moving business, man. It will shake your brain UP.

Renee and I had the word inksister tattooed on each of our hands--mine is my on my wrist and in her handwriting, and hers is in mine. The ink means so much to me, as it is a part of her I get to take with me from here on out. Likewise a part of me can always accompany her. A bit of protection, a lot of inspiration, so much heart. Everything I need for a proper exit.

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