little sarah Big World

What We Write (part 2)

Sunny Days

“He woke up every morning, thinking that today would be a new and distinctly different day, that somehow newness was possible, as long as he didn’t remember what had come before.

Which is why he tried to remember only his dreams, as if they were the one solid truth in a sea of memory.

Sweepin the Clouds Away

People, thoughts, indignities, shouts, caresses, sincerity and faking it. Ebbing and flowing. Each wave new and just like the one before it. Each night’s dreams an unremarkable revelation, which is why–after a time spent chronicling them with sincere devotion and optimism into a blue suede journal purchased for that express purpose–he eventually gave it up, leaving both dreams and memories to others more sturdy or more creative than himself.

He left the journal to bleach in the sun.

On My Way

Like sun leaking through the shutters of the window, he felt warmth in small, straight, disconnected lines. There was no, he realized, grand narrative into which it all fit. No satisfying, complete story to tell. His dreams were lies that somebody else whispered into his mind while he lay helpless. Creativity, true creativity, lie in thinking about himself as a thin, straight line of warm humanity touching others while they lay trapped in their dreams.”

*       *       *

(Written Saturday, May 25th, 2013 on the semi-enclosed outdoor patio at Design Festa Cafe & Bar, Harajuku, Tokyo. It was around 10 o’clock, after karaoke. Chad suggested we play exquisite corpse, passing a notebook back and forth, each writing a sentence, a thought or paragraph. And this is what we made 🙂

What We Write (part 1)

written

Chad and I fell in love through writing. Did you know? We met volunteering, flirted tenaciously, felt parallel panic, talked like we’d known each other forever, and then fell into an easy-yet-awkward (and very much sporadic) penpalmanship.

We would check in via letter, or email (or–let’s be honest–facebook) every six months to a year. Then drift off into our own separate lives.

Except one time that didn’t happen. One time we just kept writing. And writing. And writing, until we’d written a book–228 pages of hopes, fears, and things that you’d never want your parents to read.

Anyways, so that’s what we know, and what we come back to, though we’ve also been known to talk on the phone for hours at a time, or stay up all night diving into the oceans of each others minds. Or–lets be honest–watch a movie and then go to bed at 9pm.

And one time (just once), we played around with our new iPhones, dictating random thoughts to Siri to see what she’d turn them into. And that one time, I asked Chad to talk about “what it would be like if we had a kitty cat.”

Then Siri gave us the following, which I have transcribed into poem format. Because it is truly poetic. Thank you, iPhone. Thank you, Siri. Thank you, Chad.

*       *       *

What Would it Be Like if We Had a Kitty Cat?

What would it be like if we had a kitty cat?

Odelays, and having a KitKat
(that we got to snuggle with)and had the to-take for you

Catwalks, in the looking
Little Kitty Cat(and I’m bad)

and then we were–I’m pretty

Nake-Etiquette
daycare, Oberlin

Good little kitty cat

Mayonaise
(and I don’t get off)