Something of a journey back through time.

ImageShock of shockers, this is going to be yet another in a long series of posts about writing.

I went looking for an inspirational post to jog my memory into putting something down here.

I found a blog post by Neil Gaiman. It is about his cat and some of his thoughts on writing. He found some poems that he had written when he was 17.

I definitely have writing like that lying around the house. They are in an old record box, specifically a box that was used to send records to me in the mail, just a bit of cardboard in the shape of something that once contained records. It now contains years of poems probably written across the span of all of my high school years. They used to live in my top dresser drawer when I lived at my parent’s house.

It has been a long time since I have looked at them but I remember everything about them except for the words on the paper. They are on folded scraps of paper; at the time any piece of paper I could get my hands on had a poem about on it. Like Neil Gaiman each one is probably in the style of whatever I was learning about at the time.

I know about one poem I wrote in college that was written for Cindy in a style that we were learning about at the time. I find myself looking for it to see if it still exists on my hard drive. Did it make the journey from hard drive to hard drive. I lost a hard drive to corruption in my early sophomore year. I know that there is some lost work there. In the search I am finding some wounds and some other things that I was writing about at the time. I definitely used to write about some raw things. I think I still do but I am much more reserved in my public image now. I used to show my teachers and professors all of this stuff excited about every moment. I haven’t written poetry in a long time. Nothing that raw really gets shown to anyone anymore. Some of it makes it into stories but I think I need to let myself go a little more.

Hold on…continuing the search. I just found some beginning chapters of books never written that look like Chuck Palahniuk books of the time. I used the word “FLASH” to punctuate sentences and thoughts. I’m almost embarrassed to read it. I am finding a lot but not that one poem. I still remember that essence of a line: something about clothes lying on wheat fields.

I hope she still has a copy somewhere.

I remember being proud of it.

Most documents I found are from 2005.

As time went on the works get longer.

Still never finished.

I can see that I have progressed.

I’m hoping that continues.

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