My story in a way is about throwing something really light up into the air and just letting the wind blow it and before you know it, 35 years pass and this really light thing has been blown all the way around and back again many, many, many times and because it’s so light it hasn’t really landed.
A couple of Presidents have come and gone since I uttered those words in Desmond Horsfield’s 2007 film, Imperfection is Perfection. The landscape hasn’t really changed much, except that we’re getting ready to find another leader soon. Will it be a man, or a woman, or a comb over? It’s too soon to tell. Forza Bernie Sanders atmo.
I continue to find ephemera long ago left in drawers, on closet shelves, and in boxes stored in the loft. There are also some gems right under my nose. The one constant in my trove is the complete randomness with which all the parts comprise a whole. I don’t know why I saved so much, but each time I touch something that’s been put away for a while, it becomes that moment again. It’s a rich feeling, and it centers me.
The memories and mementos I’ve stumbled across have given me time to reflect on the many experiences and different periods of my life. It’s been an exercise choosing one, waiting until late evening, looking at it through a present day lens, and writing about it. Tonight, finally, the words don’t come. They just don’t come. The facial hair period; what the fuck was I thinking, huh?
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