burying and digging

I intended to devote this whole day to non-academic writing. I was going to update the blog about things I'd done like Paris and the conference in Cambridge. I was also going to write down scenes and snippets that might turn into good stories someday. One thing that's occurred to me is that I'm slowly finding more things to say, more things to wirte about. Maybe i'll never be as prolific or as disciplined as my friend Joelle, but i'm just happy that i've found something to say again.

So I was looking for an old word document to write my snippets in when I came across firstdocument.doc where I'd stored a few unfinished sestinas, some unfinished journal entries and stuff I'd written after Ninang had just died. It was very interesting to listen to myself speak from a year ago. At the time I'd buried all this in other word files because I was convinced it was all rubbish. But when I was reading them again, it was nice to see that it all made sense, that some of it actually sounded nice. It's always nice to look back and realize that you weren't just full of shit.
When you write things down and forget them, it's like you're setting up a game for some future time.

Something I wrote after Ninang died. It needs some tweaking but I'll save that for some other time.

Families will as families must
Pack your scarves, your old clothes,
Divvy up the things you'll never need again.
I inherited a couple of shawls, some unused body lotion,
A locket with our pictures in it, a chain you wore around your neck.
Other people made off with shoes, a big plastic bag of Dove.

We all need to make room, clear space. Make sense of what it means
You being gone. Suddenly we’re free. An empty room for guests,
More time off in our social calendars. For what?
What is all this space? This time?
Our lives have been with you, about you
Among other things. We don’t need, don’t want
other things.