Vug #3: The Launch



…working on a new project…working on a new novel…but not a memoir, or autobiography…but, of course, everything is everything and someone else’s dream, so my life memories crucial…the mammary memories…armature.

Memories cast as fiction. Take advantage of. Use what is there. Then blame memories  for their plasticity. Memories morph and change, seemingly without rhyme or reason. Memories like extras, that allow a little time travel. Memories like baubles to juggle, signifying sense.

Some memories are pillars of a life. Some memories make up punctums, pivots, focal points. Some memories supply sounds and smells, then scenes that are exceedingly necessary.

Memories make up a treasure chest of riches and fails. Shames. Disappointments. Pandora means the girl with all the gifts. This box opens up to or pretends to stand in for a life. A life of chronic pareidolia means memory can be a transformation or transgression, or a deep submersion in the sky and air, the tastes and smells, the very vibes, of what it felt like. Memories posing as a life.

Tripping suggests that all highs are laid on top of each other, so juxtaposed. And tripping suggests that all of these highs are available, if one wanted to relive those experiences. Maybe memory is a type of tripping, but so entangled, entwined, so deep it is considered the real thing.

The sacred play of my sacrosanct, and now, old man writer opened up to know it’s no big duh. Flotsam and jettison! Mainly garnish. But somehow this parsley brought me here. These attachments were relied on. Fabulous coconuts.

A life adrift, disassociation, anomie…nowhere man clings to his dirty laundry.

Memories can weigh a person down. Distractions.

So then, yes! Some kind of cherish, these memories, no matter how phony they are. But I am not located there.  

My life located in experiences, participations, beyond time machines. Sometimes the illusions, allusions, delusions have to stop. Love and work. My family is my life. And I learned discipline to become a writer (whether I have any talent or not is a different story). Different probes. Different natures.

Different access.

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