Beloved pal Hillary, wading through the infinite seas of written word to bring us the stuff that’s just neat. Like this, a “rowboat through your own nostalgia.” I like it, my friend. Tip of the hat.
“If you were born in May, I will probably rip pages of poetry out of books for you and put them in my pocket to give to you when I see you. I will steal books from the Strand bookstore and from the library for you. I will make you things, like journals and collages and animals out of Sculpey clay and I will clean my room when you come over. You will be the only reason I will ever clean my room. I will do drugs with you. I will give you a typewriter. I will not be able to keep my hands off of you. I will pick flowers and bring them to your windowsill. I will want to borrow your things. I will talk a lot around you because that is what I do around people I like. I will like you and I will maybe even love you. I will snoop through your shit because I will think you are amazing and creative and communicative. I will pick fights with you out of insecurity and neuroses. I will want to smash glass and kill flowers and kill you. I will move across the country to make sure I can live without you. I will move across the country to find you. You will be all I will meet.”
- Chloe Caldwell, “Long May You Run”
This is only a small excerpt from this piece, which I think is a great example of those rare narratives that are both intimate and universal. I think you should probably read the rest of this essay and use it like a rowboat through your own nostalgia.
Read the rest here: http://www.smalldoggiesmagazine.com/features/long-may-you-run-chloe-caldwell/
- anneysays posted this