'the adventures of a thirty-ish university graduate' or, alternately and perhaps much more aptly: 'as mad as a barking fox'

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

oh, you don't have to go

i have this suitcase that's light blue in colour. when you open it up there's a mirror on the inner part of the top of the case that's a square that sits on an angle. in a more coherent world- it's a diamond.

i've had this suitcase since i was little. i remember taking it on over night trips to my gramma's house. once a solid plastic toy balloon got tossed in that belonged to my cousin carolyn and i remember living in abject terror and fear for months whenever mom or dad looked sideways at the suitcase because, i was convinced, i'd be locked away forever for having carolyn's toy balloon. it was yellow and said "it's a boy" in blue writing on it. the pocket it was tucked into bulged out for years after the balloon was removed- its imprint a constant reminder of my theft.

the suitcase is a little more worn now. it would never do for an over night trip for me now because of my over-packing tendancy. instead, it's full of paper. i mean scads of paper. mail and pictures and stick on tattoos and newspaper clippings and small sketches and old essays and scraps of paper that meant something at some time. there's cd cases. thread and beads and random scraps of material and randomly scattered through the pile as well.

it smells good. it feels even better. i like to get lost in there.

i think that were someone to find it, they might have an inkling of who i am, the friends i kept [and continue to keep] and what was important to me during the past three years of my life. in fact, i sometimes fantasize about leaving it somewhere with a little sign that says 'open me' on it.

i imagine some person finding it- i can't decide if this person is elderly or young like me- and spending hours reading the letters and the postcards, examining the recipts and lists and residence and rental forms. the pictures would paint a story that ranged from concerts in the open to autograph signings with sir ian mckellan. the magzine clippings and printouts might reflect a certain affinty to a certain group of men from a certain movie trilogy. in the bottom, after much digging, they'd find glass beads, thread and a drawing that plans out an intricate mobile. i imagine them carefully putting everything back.

i can't decide if they would keep it or not. after all, it's just a bunch of paper.

but such a LOUD bunch of paper.


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