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In her Christmas/birthday package to me, my sister sent a cunning little notebook attached to a key chain. It consists of four-inch-long pieces of paper rubber-banded between hard covers to make a book. Theoretically I would jot down my observations and musings on these slips of paper (a little over an inch high), then rip them out and re-start my writing life based on these keen observations. I've been carrying this cute thing with me for two months now and so far have had no need of it.
My powers of observation seem to have deserted me. On the subway I read or do double-crostics assiduously, barely lifting my eyes to the scenes around me. If anything did happen I would be a useless witness for the investigators. "Gun? What gun?" "Argument? No, I didn't hear a thing."
I am insulated and isolated in my rigid box, just trying to make it through the day.
At any rate, I will soon stop adding the weight of the cute notebook/keychain to my already too-heavy purse. Perhaps traveling empty-handed, without even the possibility of recording the thoughts that pass through my brain, will stimulate such thoughts.
Once I noticed things, didn't I? Once I saw the world in its oddities and anomalies, its tender moments. Once I looked. The notes I wrote, cryptic to a fault, probably had meaning for me at the time. Now? Not so much. Whatever memories or discussions they were meant to trigger have been lost. Here is my list:
a diamond necklace
Jo's broken leg
clothes from the past (lilac linen dress with buttons along
the side from armpit to hem)
what's for dinner?
pearls of wisdom
in parks and laneways
buying candy
funnels and strainers (or perhaps it is "funerals and strain"?)
unleash your potential
plucking facial hair
beat cranky men (Alysa)
Burton's dinner, oven-fried potatoes
leaf blowers
Colombia women
drinking as the go-to remedy
squirrel upside down on a branch
Sean, purple Ferrari
Harold, Audi, black and white
Archibald, dark-blue Lamborghini
need to expand soup
waiting from day to day to see what will happen
warm your plates and chill your salad plates
here's how to measure butter
impulsive
innovative
impromptu
improvisational
Has it turned into poetry yet?
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