12:45 and you would be the mural in her bedroom

this is what I wrote while I was waiting for the hour of work to arrive

8/20/03

12:45 pm

bookstore

cafe table

I've been drawing lines. and thinking. imagining myself as character. as a writer would. If I could invent my circumstances what would i change about the true story?

nothing.

but. I'd try to cover it all. wouldn't that be the story. anyway?

I have one giant belief; I am good. Even though I see my heart and I know that it is weak,jealous,naive,and starving. I have giant knowledge that I really don't know what is happening outside of me; I create and move on like any "god" would.

create. move on. create. move on.

my life as story. as fiction. as truth is fiction...

my family would be present in my cathartic novel. As places. As filtered light. Or as headlights shining from beneath a river. Not so freshly fallen...not so long forgotten.

maybe the rain would be my ancestors. the thunder more apt to play my father.

Things as people. they would be the small tapestry in the gold frame just beyond her right and left shoulder...on a pale green wall..as she recited her litny (sp?) of reasons why should be less like them..and more like her...or anyone with a good answer to all of her...many...thousands...of Questions.

"It's all so beneath me. but Im not good enough for anything else..." that is her sub-text.

......................................

love and peace

jen