Dangerous Compassions


I worked on filing stuff and throwing stuff away.  I went through two boxes from the bedroom.  I made a huge mess.  It’s still messy but I’m out of energy.

Sleepy.  Ming’s gone out to the langar.  We were running errands and suddenly he remembered he told a friend he’d go, tonight.

My problems are papers, old letters I can’t stand to throw away for whatever reason, old zines I don’t know what to do with, postcards, stationery, and even stickers–I don’t buy them, but people send them to me sometimes.  Stamps.  Newsletters from other organizations.  Art people sent me or that I made, a little.  Envelopes, used or new.

Then there’s the books.  I declared a moratorium on buying books a while back.  Then somehow it ended.  Now I need to redeclare it.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

One reply on “paper”

Hey Laura-Marie,

I am funny about throwing stuff away. Recently I ripped up a load of letters. Then I still had the parts of letters and regretted ripping them. Now I have the ripped letters in a bag. Should I tape them back together or toss them?

Like with letters I have sent you. I have a dream that one day when I am a famous writer you will say 'oh I have a stack of Liam letters' and maybe they will be a published and posh people will buy them as an illustrated book and put them on their coffee table like they do with John Lennon letters. I leave it upto you what to keep of mine.

I watched a thing about a sand artist. He makes gemoetric patterns on beaches. I saw it on China Central Television. The essence of his art is ephemerality. I like that.

Oh yesterday for the first time I met a bisexual sailor. He was scottish and beautiful with a cheeky grin. I liked him immensely. I told ash and ash understood.

Liam x

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