Tag: memories

I’m not sure why I want to tell you this story. I don’t even know if it counts as ‘too much information’. I mean, it involves a bunch of teenagers being thrown into the communal showers at school, but I don’t know if that itself is enough. The real reason I want to tell you this story is because it’s the last time I played sports. Sure, I still hit a ball around occasionally, and I still play a little…

“Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing.” Scout Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird by¬†Harper Lee Gods, this is going to be a sappy one… It’s the kind of sentence that comes right out of left field, right from the author rather than the character. Lulled into a false sense of security by Scout’s oft-inane stream of consciousness and then blam, the kind of phrase that makes you stop and…

My friends are going to kill me for this one. They’re going to hunt me down and kill me. They’re going to be justified in doing so, too… I think we’ve all scrubbed this particular incident from our collective memories. In fact, if you’re not quite ready for a truly awesome mental image, you might just want to visit Lilu’s blog for other, less-disgusting but still too-much-information stories. Looking back, I think we always tried to justify it as ‘one…

This is a continuation from a series of entries I wrote chronicling my childhood and teenage years. For some reason I got sidetracked — I wrote about ‘that tale from my teenage years‘, and before I knew it I was writing about my crazy relationships and sexual encounters. And then I got talking about The American. I often write as if I’m not affected by what unfolds — chilled, objective — but the truth is… I am. I am effected…

If you haven’t read the first half of the story you really, really should. In fact, this entry won’t make much sense, nor will it have anywhere near the same emotional impact if you don’t start from the beginning — so go and read the first half! It’s the last night of school, the summer ball. A coming of age for many, but I still haven’t had my first kiss. We walk away together, muted, numb, hand in hand. I…

“Youth is happy because it has the ability to see beauty. Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.” Franz Kafka Franz Kafka was a Czech author of fiction, born in Prague, who was unfortunately only successful posthumously. He wrote in German, so that quote is merely a translation: an incredibly accurate and astutely-observed deduction that he only reached That quote will be the basis for this article. I will expand it out and try to apply…