Reading and not-reading Divisadero, imagining my youth and past, locating myself in a fractious, inconstant, contrary world. Last weekend, at Lear, I could have been anywhere, in the darkness, with Muffin beside, I, trembling in the torrent. Able now to locate the words to construct a bildungsroman, naming people, places, objects, ideas which evaporated through apathy, shame, inertia. Standing, with only the clothes on my back and a mind gently churning with every memory rediscovered, waiting only to be tagged, sorted, revealed. From the depths of my isolation to the brilliant coherence of my newfound universe. Looking forward, to the end of the this singular year, to be filled with everything I’ve neglected for these 2, 3 pedestrian years. Happy, even though I own nothing.
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Bildungsroman - try: Decline & Fall, Evelyn Waugh.