The man needs no introduction
One day I will take you for granted.
Your sweat will no longer smell sweet
It seemed morbid to post this poem on my birthday so I waited a bit
I want to make you a promise now. A promise that I’ll go through and reread all your old stories, that I’ll put them together and retell them, that I’ll assemble those stories into a grand new narrative. But, realistically, I’m probably not going to. I don’t have that follow through, and I think you’d know that, and would be ok with it.
Just a moment out of time I enjoyed more than I should have
((This is part 3 of a 3 part thinkywritything on storytelling. Part 2 is here.)) Kogo, the goshawk, fluttered on his wrist and settled herself, watching him. Toranaga smiled at her. “I did not choose to be what I am. It is my karma.” – Shogun, James Clavell I have bad news, dear reader. I’m…
All our lives summed up such
Profound moments of confusion where it’s not clear if everything is on the line or really just nothing at all
I don’t wonder how much of the mental clutter we have in our lives is a result of this constant stream of unended stories in our mind, some of which will never reach a conclusion. The 8 book series we’ll never get around to reading, or the TV show cancelled after only 1 season without an ending. All these things are left dangling in our minds, and it’s something that our tribal storytelling didn’t worry about.
Every story begins somewhere, even a story about telling stories. I hate to write something that ends with a bit of a cliffhanger and risks feeling too fluffy without any meat, but I have to get this out in order to move on. I hope you’ll forgive me
I’ll write something new one of these days
Written back in Costa Rica, part of a continuation on musings regarding expectations. Amusingly enough, managing expectations is the one of these I still haven’t posted yet.
maybe life wasn’t quite as terrible as I thought