Any day now, my closet will be gone. With all the construction that is happening literally right outside my bedroom window, that’s easy to believe. No matter how long it actually is before the closet gets knocked out, it’s easy to believe that it could be any time now and this is good. I could put off clearing out my closet until the last moment, but now I think the last moment could happen any day now; time for action.
I knew I had boxes and bags of paper in that closet, and I dreaded even starting on them. I needed to be ruthless, and I pitched out bales of articles for classes I’d taken. I gathered up pages that I must have been saving for some reason, and threw them into the trash bag I’d carried up with me. If I needed to ask myself if I should keep something, I threw it straight out. Very liberating.
Four of the things that I kept were books. I’m not sure how they came to sink into my closet, but now they are safe.
1.) The Snapper. Don’t ever forget that Roddy Doyle can be a very funny writer; it’s one of the things that makes him as great as he is. What is there to say about a book about an unplanned pregnancy that begins with a young woman’s father asking, “Yer WHAT?”
2.) 1990 , a book of poems by my dear Michael Klein. I have no idea how this small volume got into the bag in the closet, but I am so happy to have found it. I remember Michael reading his poems at the Goddard residencies where it was always cold. He read in a voice that could make the telephone-book a thrill to hear. I always felt his poems to be urgent, loaded and beautiful. I can read them again, and almost hear your voice Michael. So good to hear it again.
3.) A stapled-together book that Liam and I wrote when he was four. It’s about a cyclops and some knights. He drew the pictures, told me the story, and I wrote it. We stapled the pages all out of order. The last page reads, “Once upon a time there was a mean cyclops walking around in the street. Nobody did good things for him because he looked so scary. This made him mean”. I could put the pages in order; but why should I?
4.) I found two journals of mine, oversized sketchbooks from the years when I wrote in my journal nearly every day. I drew almost as much as I wrote, using oil- or chalk pastels which I love for all their lush smearable colour.
The first volume dates from 1998, a time when I rode the train three hours a day three days a week to a difficult job with an impossible supervisor. On the train at the end of the day, I would just sit and write it all out. I drew landscapes, figures, flowers otters and spirals.
The second journal was written when I was pregnant with Liam. I drew lots of figures in the second journal, nude pregnant figures. I haven’t read either of the journals yet, but it feels good to have them.
One folded page fell out of one of the journals. It was what I had read at my father’s funeral. Never thought I’d see that again.
How could I have known what I would find today? I’m so glad I started in on that closet.
I knew I had boxes and bags of paper in that closet, and I dreaded even starting on them. I needed to be ruthless, and I pitched out bales of articles for classes I’d taken. I gathered up pages that I must have been saving for some reason, and threw them into the trash bag I’d carried up with me. If I needed to ask myself if I should keep something, I threw it straight out. Very liberating.
Four of the things that I kept were books. I’m not sure how they came to sink into my closet, but now they are safe.
1.) The Snapper. Don’t ever forget that Roddy Doyle can be a very funny writer; it’s one of the things that makes him as great as he is. What is there to say about a book about an unplanned pregnancy that begins with a young woman’s father asking, “Yer WHAT?”
2.) 1990 , a book of poems by my dear Michael Klein. I have no idea how this small volume got into the bag in the closet, but I am so happy to have found it. I remember Michael reading his poems at the Goddard residencies where it was always cold. He read in a voice that could make the telephone-book a thrill to hear. I always felt his poems to be urgent, loaded and beautiful. I can read them again, and almost hear your voice Michael. So good to hear it again.
3.) A stapled-together book that Liam and I wrote when he was four. It’s about a cyclops and some knights. He drew the pictures, told me the story, and I wrote it. We stapled the pages all out of order. The last page reads, “Once upon a time there was a mean cyclops walking around in the street. Nobody did good things for him because he looked so scary. This made him mean”. I could put the pages in order; but why should I?
4.) I found two journals of mine, oversized sketchbooks from the years when I wrote in my journal nearly every day. I drew almost as much as I wrote, using oil- or chalk pastels which I love for all their lush smearable colour.
The first volume dates from 1998, a time when I rode the train three hours a day three days a week to a difficult job with an impossible supervisor. On the train at the end of the day, I would just sit and write it all out. I drew landscapes, figures, flowers otters and spirals.
The second journal was written when I was pregnant with Liam. I drew lots of figures in the second journal, nude pregnant figures. I haven’t read either of the journals yet, but it feels good to have them.
One folded page fell out of one of the journals. It was what I had read at my father’s funeral. Never thought I’d see that again.
How could I have known what I would find today? I’m so glad I started in on that closet.
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