Sunday, 06 January 2002 | Negatives

The back corner of my closet is empty for the first time in years, the negatives to all the pictures I've ever taken are in labeled sleeves, and I've finally gotten rid of long-expired resumes and cover letters. The drive to organize and throw out crept into me sometime after lunch and is only starting to die now, hours later, sneaking back out again with each yawn.

While sifting through one particular mound of chaos, I came across some old writing and instantly noticed how much more jagged and honest and cryptic it is, compared to what I post here. Some of it seems much more daring, much better; but, then again, it's sitting in folded piles on a shelf, mostly unread, and occasionally even I have a hard time discerning exactly what it was I meant. Maybe that's why I like it—because it forces me to revisit moments I'd forgotten, and because it has turned into a riddle only I can solve. But perhaps that makes it irrelevant to everyone else.