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Sep. 26th, 2003 09:05 amWhen I drove through Richmond, I passed VCU. I was already thinking about it, reflecting on that 2-hour drive down there. I knew I would, I giggled to myself. How different things look today, how much more I understand about myself and the situation now, how transparent everyone looks in retrospect, but still I giggle that it all happened. I saw the dorm, that had to be it, across from the park. It was on the way back - on the way back I passed the other side and recognized the view.
Why? Why did I stop and look at the building? Why did my eyes trace their way up to where the window would have been? I still tell bits and pieces of the stories, I still make little coy references. Those people are no longer there, those events are tucked away in everyone’s memories, probably quite private ones. Well, except for Ann who last I heard worked as some type of dominatrix. I looked at the park, noting neither the building nor the homeless across the street looked any different. The people were not there, and it was summer - there was no one in the school at all. Yet I stared, felt feelings, remembered smells, sounds, details sprung up from everywhere. None of it mattered, none of it was important, it sure as hell doesn’t matter now, none of those people do.
I couldn’t not make fun of myself for staring at an empty building. The memories are inside me, perhaps them, not this stupid place. I tell myself this, but I can’t believe it.
Why? Why did I stop and look at the building? Why did my eyes trace their way up to where the window would have been? I still tell bits and pieces of the stories, I still make little coy references. Those people are no longer there, those events are tucked away in everyone’s memories, probably quite private ones. Well, except for Ann who last I heard worked as some type of dominatrix. I looked at the park, noting neither the building nor the homeless across the street looked any different. The people were not there, and it was summer - there was no one in the school at all. Yet I stared, felt feelings, remembered smells, sounds, details sprung up from everywhere. None of it mattered, none of it was important, it sure as hell doesn’t matter now, none of those people do.
I couldn’t not make fun of myself for staring at an empty building. The memories are inside me, perhaps them, not this stupid place. I tell myself this, but I can’t believe it.
