I believe that’s on Willie’s Teatro cd, and I’m feelin’ it today as I scan the posts on the Typepad Spinning weblog looking for images. I’m still back in 2004–not a good year–and it’s a hurricane of emotions that I don’t even recognize always as me.
The writing is better than I write now; at least in the entries on reality. Yet I think my fiction has improved over the past five years. It’s hard to discern the difference in the person and yet as I see this author slowly open up, it seems that as one reaches for the pearl, the oyster now clamps shut.
Have I said all I wanted to say, then? Should I have ended it there?
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology