![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
memetic reflection
Oct. 3rd, 2002 01:05 pmIn response to the recent meme that's swept through my friends page:
I met you in coffeeshops and nightclubs, in parties that I hosted where crowds spilled out onto stairways and corridors and rooftops, and in excursions to pick apples from autumn trees or sip chicory coffee in New Orleans cafes. I met you in communities and fora bound by e-mail and reply-to buttons, and usually I knew your words before I knew your face.
If we could spend a day with each other, it would be spent wandering the city, going nowhere in particular, discovering strange new places and claiming them as our own, all the while swapping stories, dreams and wishes unfulfilled. Or we would spend it on a highway, driving out to aquariums, museums or forests, towards cities that we pinned on a map a long time ago, and we'd listen to a rotation of songs that had meant something to us once before. Or we'd spend it reading, at home, quietly and only speaking to ask if you wanted a glass of water while I was in the kitchen.
I have dreamt of some of you, and fought with less than that. I've hugged most, and kissed a few. In many cases, I'd fight for you, wait for you, but not sing Garbage karaoke for you. I've seen some of you cry at funerals and at weddings, and I'm glad to see more of the latter than the former. I trust many of you more than I'd trust most people, and, in rare cases, more than I've trusted anyone else. We've exchanged secrets whispered in prolonged hugs and conspiratorial huddles, in solitary conversations on empty porches and drunken exchanges that we didn't regret the morning after.
if I had to describe you, all of you, in three words or less -- my family, seriously.
now, if you'll excuse me, I need to flush some of this sugar out of my system before it rots my teeth.
I met you in coffeeshops and nightclubs, in parties that I hosted where crowds spilled out onto stairways and corridors and rooftops, and in excursions to pick apples from autumn trees or sip chicory coffee in New Orleans cafes. I met you in communities and fora bound by e-mail and reply-to buttons, and usually I knew your words before I knew your face.
If we could spend a day with each other, it would be spent wandering the city, going nowhere in particular, discovering strange new places and claiming them as our own, all the while swapping stories, dreams and wishes unfulfilled. Or we would spend it on a highway, driving out to aquariums, museums or forests, towards cities that we pinned on a map a long time ago, and we'd listen to a rotation of songs that had meant something to us once before. Or we'd spend it reading, at home, quietly and only speaking to ask if you wanted a glass of water while I was in the kitchen.
I have dreamt of some of you, and fought with less than that. I've hugged most, and kissed a few. In many cases, I'd fight for you, wait for you, but not sing Garbage karaoke for you. I've seen some of you cry at funerals and at weddings, and I'm glad to see more of the latter than the former. I trust many of you more than I'd trust most people, and, in rare cases, more than I've trusted anyone else. We've exchanged secrets whispered in prolonged hugs and conspiratorial huddles, in solitary conversations on empty porches and drunken exchanges that we didn't regret the morning after.
if I had to describe you, all of you, in three words or less -- my family, seriously.
now, if you'll excuse me, I need to flush some of this sugar out of my system before it rots my teeth.
