Theories of Time and Space

Theories of Time and Space

by Natasha Trethewey

You can get there from here, though
there's no going home.

Everywhere you go will be somewhere
you've never been. Try this:

head south on Mississippi 49, one-
by-one mile markers ticking off

another minute of your life. Follow this
to its natural conclusion – dead end

at the coast, the pier at Gulfport where
riggings of shrimp boats are loose stitches

in a sky threatening rain. Cross over
the man-made beach, 26 miles of sand

dumped on the mangrove swamp – buried
terrain of the past. Bring only

what you must carry – tome of memory,
its random blank pages. On the dock

where you board the boat for Ship Island,
someone will take your picture:

the photograph – who you were—
will be waiting when you return.

Good weekend, bad writing

I went to the West Side Market and Coventry for my and Shaun's two year mark. It was great--we walked around and talked to some of the vendors, and I bought a ring, earrings, necklace, scarf, shirt, shawl, homemade soap, and vanilla incense. We had some really good sushi for dinner then came back, drank, ate fudge and watched old music videos. Overall, great weekend. :)

Now I am attempting to write my first story for Fiction Writing I with Ted Lyons. Since he gives no prompts in the class, it took me a few days just to come up with an idea. I have five sentences written. Maybe if I fold my laundry or wash my face, I can concentrate better. Whenever I get stuck on my writing, I always end up washing my face. Or cleaning my room. Maybe I'm trying to wash away all the bad and restart. Or more likely, I'm looking for an excuse to do something other than write.

I feel like so far, the story in my head reflects a lot about myself. Maybe I'll share it when it's finished, but prose is really not my forte, which is probably why I'm having such difficulty writing it. Bahhhh.

I really need to start working on my writing portfolio. My mind feels so bogged down lately, as if there's a barrier preventing me from writing or revising.

nice whip darlin.

When I came out of my evening Creative Non-Fiction class today, I found this folded up in the hole in the seat of my bike. It made my day.

(excuse the crappy cell phone camera quality)

In other news, I'm really pleased with all of my classes so far and I am actually looking forward to the rest of the semester. Let's just hope I have enough motivation to put together a kick-ass writing portfolio!