Blog Manifesto

Blog Manifesto


This blog is dedicated, as the title would suggest, to the qualities of being young. We are young writers. We are playful and sensitive, fluid and changing. We are unashamed with our art. We wonder at the world, puzzle over the meanings of things and twirl in delight at images and ideas that float by, grabbing at them as they pass. We are curious and constantly inquiring and prying concepts open and taking assumptions apart. We are on the ground, close to the earth. We have bare feet and wiggle our toes into nature. We carry our blankies still and wrap up cozy and comfy with each other and tell ghost stories and shiver at creepy things. We laugh and we cry and we take a lot of naps, drained from our outings and exertions.

We write as gifts to each other, tying them up in ribbon and leaving them around for each other to find, hiding and waiting for the person to wake up and read. Surprise! We weave our stories together to create a bond. One writes, then the other. then another again. We have a shared reality that we have crafted, bit by piece by patch, by string. We write simple, honest authentic things, with our unique voices. You can tell each one of us from the other, without knowing who wrote what. Our voices are clear and gentle and original. We whisper and our personalities roar! Like children, our feelings are strong, our passion for what we write shakes us. We are moved and sometimes left breathless, by our own words or the words of each other. We cannonball into each others spaces. We fall backward into each others writing, like into a pile of leaves or a soft bed. We gobble and grin and ask for more. (footnote kudos to JC)

Then we go to bed, wake up to a new day and do it all over again!

Thursday, January 26, 2012

How I Met My Dan. :D

There's these two buildings in Cambridge MA in the early 70's that if you told people your address, they would know about them.  It was 60 and 64 Pleasant St.  Our commune picture is taken out in front of there.

The Vegetarian Restaurant Commune lived in 64 1E and the entire basement.  Carol King before she got her record contract had allegedly lived in 60 3E with some guy. A drug house with runaway child prostitutes including a senator's daugther lived in 60 1W.   I  lived in 64 2E with three male roomates, or so in one of those shotgun setups where people had made bedrooms out of the dining room and to get to the back bedroom or living room, you had to go through my room.

For privacy, I had set my bed six foot and then some high up off the floor, a steel box spring, wired to metal milk box crates that I had commandeered from alleyways and behinds stores. and brought home to stack up almost to the ceiling.  I could climb up there and be completely alone and read or write or think.

I wasn't a big fan of clothing in those days.  So I didn't wear any at home.  I wasn't wearing any the day that a knock sounded on the door and I told whoever it was to come on in.  I was up on my bed, face down, propped up by my arms, draped in a sheet reading Thackeray's Vanity Fair.  I wasn't about to climb down to open the door.  Besides it was an open apartment.  We were cheerful and easy going.

In walks the tallest, cutest guy I had ever seen.  He's only inches away from my face as I point to the back room.  I actuallly peered over to see if he had brought a box with him to stand on.  No box, just 6' 9 " of cute as a scarecrow hippie longness.  Long hair, long lashes on his eyes. long, long legs and arms. and a big long grin on his face.

Hi, I'm Dan."

Hi, I'm Rosie,  Gary is in the back.  Through the double doors and past the beaded curtain.

He leaves, I throw on a silk wrap of some kind, comb my hair, pinch my cheeks. 

He stops on the way back out, having bought his nickel bag...

Nice meeting you Rosie.

and I say:  Tee hee hee.

We both agree that I actually said or chuckled or giggled, Tee hee hee.

That was March in the middle, we married in June.


No comments:

Post a Comment