I started reading Old Friend from Far Away at a friend’s house in Nica and since I knew time was short, I wrote down a large list of prompts so that I could work on it when the right moment presented itself, which happened to be once I got home and had access to a library. Still, since my license expired on my b-day, I was relatively homebound for the first few days and was working off my list trying to decode the statement “I don’t remember/forget (if it’s scary, rip it up & write again” (10 min):
I don’t remember/ I forget what this is supposed to mean but I know that if this is scary, I’m supposed to rip it up & write it again. Rip it up. Burn the heart’s cry & scribble it out again, like around Valentines Day or actually a week or two before when I was fighting a disturbing dream & needed to get it out – I had to explain to someone or even just see the thoughts spread clear on the page. I forget what else I wrote but they were so honest that although I did want to save it for my own records, I couldn’t risk enlisting anyone elses help & since it was on someone elses computer & I didn’t have my own flash, I couldn’t do anything about it so the words were lost & I forgot what I wrote. All I know is that the other girls were watching 4 Christmases, cuddled up together all on their stomachs, like sisters, and I was on the bench, scribbling my deepest thoughts and hurts into a blank computer screen that would remain blank after an hours worth of writing & years worth of thinking was highlighted, deleted, and the screen was closed on them as if they were never to be spoken of again.