A place to start
Published March 28th, 2006 in Sam B., RememberedWhile poking through everything I’ve ever written that I still have in order to find a name for this blog, I came across a journal that I kept in the 5th grade. I remember making it, in particular the abstract marker drawing on the cover. I also remember thinking that it was going to be cool to have time for writing everyday at school. But it didn’t turn out like that. We were only given a few opportunities to write before the journals were sent home with us, tant pis.
One particular entry caught my eye this morning. It amuses me for various reasons: “I’m about to fall asleep, but I can go on. (day 6 of school)”
This entry showed me that my interest in enumeration is a much older one than I had thought and pointed out an early attitude that would grow up to become a very nerdy interest in Samuel Beckett. I was (apparently) exhausted in the 5th grade, and have continued to be so. I was really into He-Man then, which is still pretty much so true. I have more of a taste for experimental performance now than then, and I like to think that my writing is more interesting these days. But what do I know?
In the 5th grade, I was all about Ultraman - whose movies I found LAST NIGHT at a random J-shop on Clark & Belmont. And welcome to da blogscape.
I had a dream not too long ago that you were making everyone NOT call you Raver, like, it was a point. It was weird.
What happened to sweaterboy?
Also: I need to scan that packet. I need to scan Bubba sometime in the next millenia, also.
First page: Works Cited; James Joyce, A portrait of the artist as a young man…
second: 16-1-94
>
Third: Kindling, canto
I don’t remember getting this, but it’s important somehow, and has followed me to this place.
I should probably read it again.
That was so long ago.
Before Kyle, before Chicago, before dropping out…
wow.
in the fifth grade (this sounds like the first line of a terrible song that Sepoy would sing)
i was all about action
as in revolution.
before Samuel Beckett
drilled into my head
the haunting affliction
of modern life:
waiting.
we wait. therefore we are.
and we write
in the meanwhile.
cheers from the landoflime.
More about Beckett and how he Changed My Life.
I can now answer questions (clues? answers?) on Jeopardy in the Literature/Plays/Ready crap section without feeling like a dumbass.
Final question (clue, answer, whatever) on a Tournament of Champions last week was regarding the last two lines in Waiting for Godot, and you were supposed to answer (ask?) Waiting for Godot. I freaking got it. I was so proud of myself.
Literature and Western History are my WORST subjects on Jeopardy.
Just had to be happy for a moment.