I like to save old text messages - the ones that make me smile or laugh.
My phone somehow just deleted all but three.
UNCOOL.
A disproportionate number of the interesting people I’ve met in my life have been redheads.
Conversations with Strangers #4: Purse Scrapbooker
On the downtown F.
The woman next to me - short red hair, wearing a gray suit, holding a bright green purse.
The train stops moving halfway between 57th and Rockefeller Center.
She opens her purse and starts pulling things out - pieces of paper, napkins, business cards, books, pens, make-up, menus - looks at them (sometimes smiles) and places them on the seat in between us.
It’s like your life collected inside your bag, I say.
Exactly, she says.
“My bag is like my living diary or scrapbook. And every few weeks, I go through it, relive my life, and edit my memory.”
and we are vagabonds we travel without seat belts on we live this close to death
“ Don’t be surprised when you unfold the origami and come to a blank piece of paper. ”
Drawing the Conversation
May 19, 2008: Tzvi
“Got a gray suit with white pin stripes. I’m gonna wear it with a red shirt and be all sexy like that.”
Drawing the Conversation
June 17th, 2008: Frank
Frank: “I’m starting to feel it again…that drive to go out west. I’m thinking of joining my friend out in Seattle. Guess I’m more of a hippie than a regular person.”
Me: “But you’re not a hippie either. And that’s a good thing. People who fit into categories too easily don’t make real things of their lives.”
I’m homesick for a road trip.
About me
I write. I draw. I adventure. I do a lot of other things, too.
If you know/knew me in real life, have stumbled upon my blog, are secretly reading this, and think I would feel strange about your reading my thoughts, I don’t.
Drop me an e-mail and say hi.
I miss you.
And if I don't know you yet, and you have something fun to say, e-mail me, too.
I probably miss you also; I just don't know it yet.
rachmouse|at|gmail|dot|COM