Can it be done?

I used to blog. All the time. I would get home each day and decide what I needed to blog. Transformative. It affects your memory. When you write something down, it doesn't matter how it really happened; all you remember is how you put it.

And that's why I want to blog again. Before every memory folds into itself, becoming some indistinguishable goo, I want to grasp some of them. Point them out. Preserving/creating, all in the same gesture. Oh, the power of the author.

We'll try and recall the weekend, bullet-point-style.

1) Lunch with J.S.^2 and J.H., mama's daughter's diner, v. fun.
2) Drinking with J.H. after work.
3) Some coffee/newspaper/working
4) Dinner with a slightly passive-agressive A.L. and an altogether agressive M.G.
5) Drinks/Pizza with the Oklahomans, including one of the aforementioned J.S.'s
6) Texas/Oklahoma basketball with J.H.

A full weekend, by my usual standard. And yet, it's never enough. There's always something outside the periphery, that I should have grabbed, but didn't. I've let it pass for 25 years, what's one day more?

Current book: Saturday by Ian McEwan
Current music: Wolf Parade