“Do you ever finish a notebook? Or go back and read them?” My father gives me an incredulous look as he finishes the questions. We are standing together on a train, he in his suit, me in my windbreaker and jeans.
“Sure,” I say, scratching down his words, but that is not strictly true. They stand like unfinished buildings in developing countries, surrounded by scaffolds yet abandoned. By contrast, my completed projects have taken on ephemeral forms, read aloud at small gatherings, distilled and disseminated as electronic missives. They are the kinetic drive in the populace of the city that surrounds the buildings, fostering their hopes that the tall, unfinished edifices will burst forth from their scaffolds and scatter pieces of the selfish monument into the hearts of all the citizens.
March 11, 2009, 9:37pm Comments
