Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
We need to become reacquainted. Have you changed? Are you dead? Have you moved away? Are you waiting for me?
Lists. Lists are good. Lists set you up and provide a place to start, something to tick off. Proof of accomplishment. Making nests of files is great. Files, folders, albums. Email folders provide order.
Last night I went through the “sent email” folder. OK, I was idling away, waiting for midnight when the Letters to the Editor go online. Right at the end, the ones that show up only after those on top are deleted, the oldest emails, there you all are. Right there, hidden from view at first, emerging from cyberspace like characters in ‘Glitch’ – sketch biographies of you all. Last February, during my “I Am A Writer” solo retreat, I emailed your stories to myself as soon as I got your stories down.
Of course, you’re also in the two spiral bound notebooks which say Book (I) and Book (II) on the covers. Book 2 also has a picture of Buzz Lightyear saying to Woody, all in caps “THAT CRAZY LADY SHE’S EVERYWHERE”. Tatty bits of post-it-notes bend over between the pages, your names neatly penned using my finest rollerball.
But, last night, the books were in my desk drawer, and there you were, after the Optus phone bill gentle reminders, below the old work shit and sewerage pump-out invoices. All of you that I met last year – no, the year before. Our relationships intensified last year; you started to more fully reveal yourselves to me – your jealousies, resentments, family histories, joys, passions.
I read those selfiemails. One or two made me laugh; that’s good! One of you is a right proper bastard, another a killer, sadly, one a victim. There’s some strong women amongst you, and some vulnerable people. At least one of you is a narcissist, a few pompous arsehats. I’ve met some gentle souls and at least one dingbat.
Of course, I made a new Yahoo folder and put you all in there. Now you’re rubbing up against each other; time for me to get to know you all again. At least you’re waiting for my 10 minutes a day.
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