outwait outrun outwit


an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
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12.05.06, tuesday evening

Jimmy was out winning a spontaneous ping-pong championship. I was forever blue, lying in the dark after watching Pedro Almodovar's ¿Qué he hecho yo para merecer ésto?/What have I done to deserve this? (1984) That one was the best one ever. I wished I had that little girl's magical power. Without having to brave the roaring wet gales that lash and blind, I could so easily transport some memories to the overflowing compost bin of history, like so many softening egg cartons, broken-domed egg shells, unwanted peel and unusable stems already turning into fertile soil.

I am always wanting the easy way out. This vexes me considerably.


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