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Wednesday, February 23, 2005 |
 Readers of the technologically afflicted Dr. Omed's Tent Show Revival may click on the leopardskin pillbox fez for his latest post(s). 6:23:50 PM  comment []
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"Letters, photographs, books, objects, even documents, big and little things treasured like breath--impossible to live without them--move with me and the beds and the casseroles from house to house, yet some of them and always the wrong ones inevitably vanish, a diminishment at each upheaval ... hinting at loss. A little lost each time, not much, absorbed into the mysterious space to which you willingly confide pieces of your reckless life, your memory deeply troubled and faulty without them. Because even memory can lose its key like that of the last house, and upon what recall then can you depend to enter the next one? After a while I could not remember what I didn't have any more. "But why worry about the inanimate? Only life was not trivial, only love could be truly missed, and I had both." (Dorothea Tanning, Between lives: An Artist and Her World) 12:33:52 PM comment []
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