When I was beautiful

[preposterone]

This morning, driving to work through the persistently steely drizzle, I listened to a cassette tape Hen Ra gave me, a compendium of three live Pavement shows, 1992-95. It's sonic mac-and-cheese, and I indulge in it far too often. I mean, I came to terms some time ago that my previously forward-thinking, all-new-stuff-all-the-time music critic self

Comments

up to three ghosts

[raygonne]

wow, prepo. reading this, i feel like i'm still in the attic with henry. glad i'm not alone in my close-ish encounters with former selves.

back when gameboy was a new thing, there was a game called motorcycle maniacs that i loved to play. you could do multiple 360s off jumps, and whenever you did something cool, a tinier motorcycle and rider would appear behind you and copy all your tricks. you could get up to three of them, if i remember correctly, and of course, if you muffed, you'd lose them. ever since i got into that game, i've imagined, whenever i did something cool (especially if no one noticed), that i'd get a little guy behind me doing flips. i can get up to three of them.

lately, i feel like whenever i think about previous versions of me, i get a little ghost behind me, waving at me or just acting faded and free. some nights i just stay home and accumulate up to three ghosts. am i losing my mind?

your
ray gonne
r--------*

three minds or more

[preposterone]

Shit, Ray. It's a good thing you've put Henry to bed for the night, because I've got some bad news for you: I'm not the girl to be asking whether or not you're losing your mind. Because I feel like I'm trying to pick mine out of the static, and it's got lots of drips. It's an interesting task, though. The art and craft of identity. Like transfer printing with your ego

I know her ...

[anonymous]

and she does. (I'm her fact-checking cuz.)