Well, I just can't do the positivity schtick any more. Since my last post, five of my friends have died. And all 100 of my tadpoles.
An idiot named Frank killed the latter, and various diseases and calamities the former.
Tonight I was looking through hundreds of old photos to make an album in remembrance of Gil, one of the aforementioned dead people. As I looked through the photos, I realized what excellent tools they were for helping me remember trips, events, people, pets, and all sorts of things that would otherwise dribble out of my ever-dissolving memory. I found photos of The World's Largest Horse at the county fair; weird orchids in the Yucatan jungle; a visit with Elijah Cook, Jr.; LA street murals; me in some huge, Kim Jung Il style glasses in the '80s; a trip to Oregon to look for Bigfoot; and even an ex-husband or two.
Seeing as nobody but me reads this blog, I reckon I'll use it as a mnemonic possession: something to help me remember the remarkable and the mundane events that make up my life.
I hereby dedicate today's entry to the memories of Seymour, Charles, Heather, Marjorie, and Gilly. And the tadpoles, who I hadn't gotten around to naming.
1 comment:
I keep trying to write my blog for my own edification but people named "mom" and "dad" keep commenting and telling me how much they like my fuzzy warbles.
I'm really sorry I haven't gotten back to you sooner, but I've been getting adjusted to life in the city.
I hear you're living in San Jose, which isn't all that far if my vague recollection of geography serves me correctly (it rarely does) I'd love to hear more from you at some point. Until then,
Sean
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