How fun would it be to be able to take all of your favorite writing you’ve ever typed and burn the ink into paper pages, all bound?
Each with a date written bold in the corner. The thoughts and impressions that met you all displayed in the words that ran from your fingers, now from the end of a pen, pencil or quill.
I was thinking how wonderfully enigmatic it would be to use a journal in a fun way to write pieces out of order. Somewhat like a “choose your own adventure” style of writing where the pages are not in order.
On one page you open up and it’s March 24th, 2005.
The next page is July 3rd, 2012.
The page after that is December 29th, 1999.
I’m sure I’m not the first to think of this out of order insanity. The flow of time caught off guard and ripped through the pages like a leaf through the autumn wind. Being able to time jump with the flip of a wrist. Reading thoughts of an occupied emotion in different states of development. Thinking in current time what a fool yet envious of every curve and slope against each letter as they bled onto the page.
38 years ago would be too far. Maybe 25 would have been a nice place to start. Wishing won’t make it so but starting now and at 76 who knows. The only way we live through the past is by memories and what better way to keep a memory then writing down those emotions. A picture being worth a thousand words never stood much for me. It could never compete with a couple of hundred chosen in the right mood.
I’ve got two notebooks at home. Hard bound and unwritten in for probably a decade, maybe slightly less. I should give those pages a voice.