Hello friends. Earlier today I was feeling vaguely thankful about writing. I guess I love meta-commentary about writing. Or maybe I’m gearing up toward writing something more substantial, however fictitious it’ll be – maybe one day.
But what I love most about writing – stories, for that matter (who doesn’t love stories?) – is, sure, a bit of escapism. But in contrast to the Real World it’s this tidy hotel along a lesser known street in a lesser known town from a lesser known country.
Stories give a special reverence to the ordinary, if you think about it. I mean, at least the best ones do. The ones that aren’t so far off from the typical day-in-the-life. The best resonance.
The best story would be your story, you know. Even if all the markets point toward skyscrapers you can be assured the lasting story is the one in the back of your local record store.
A stray cat cared for by the whole neighborhood. Your friends calling your name from their dingy low-rider.
It’s the blossom of ordinary to extraordinary which fills any heart with promise. Fills the heart with contentment.
Of course this is all enough. Of course it is.
Will you cherish it, or do you have to wait until it’s all gone? Writing gives you the chance to figure that one out.
Perhaps this is our very own classroom! Where do you think you’ll sit? Usually you don’t have much of a choice, whether due to teacher discretion or societal inclinations. I can only look fondly towards you and your circle discussing the weekend disastrous beach trip.
Only in the ordinary can you talk directly to another soul. The only place where you can dare to break out of your designated role. Where the perforated perspective loses each threaded notch until it all dismantles into a vulnerable reflection.
I can only watch the science experiments drop from the second floor. Baking some Bagel Bites™ in our cling-wrapped shoe boxes. Let’s stammer out some greetings at the vending machine – maybe aspire to plant some vending machines of our own.
I do wonder what our classroom would look like. I do hope that perhaps you wouldn’t mind sharing notes sometimes.
Notes on what you look forward to, maybe.