revision dilemma

There is a boy.  Last year, when I started this blog, I was romantically interested in him.  The tag for him to a certain extent reflects this.  Now we are friends, only friends.  I know I decided to not to revise previous posts to reflect the current truth, but what about tags?  It seems odd to tag him in a way that implies (at least to me) romantic interest, but I don’t want to just make up a new tag without changing all the old ones. So do I change the old ones?  Complicating the issue slightly is the fact that he and K. have the same first initial.

Anyway, I originally got onto this topic because I liked something he’d said about Robin:
“Robin had the reputation akin to a Goddess. She is always there; watching, waiting.”
Which I loved, and wanted to quote here.

I do almost feel like she’s still watching me, asking me why I’ve read so little of the Darwin I’m supposed to be reading.

I’ve been drowning my sorrows in Monty Python, junk food, and tea, mainly, because I’m sure she’d worry if I drowned them in anything stronger. (I did have a slightly spiked hot chocolate last night.)

I’ve been wearing this silly little bracelet, too. Just brightly coloured plastic beads – she picked it up one day when we were organizing the costume shop and said something like “this looks like you.”
My friend E. wears a beautiful, simple silver metal bracelet in memory of her friend Haley, and as lovely as something like that would be, the bright plastic found in the theatre somehow seems so much more appropriate for Robin.

two fragments

to remember us like this, and this, and this, and this
our bodies like continents
peninsulas extending
bending
as our plate tectonics lead to continental collision
and our geography undergoes revision
after revision
after revision
converging, and what is emerging?

—–

he tells her stop feeling old
there are still things you haven’t yet done
you never walked barefoot in the cold rain
you never wove on a loom
you never ate quinoa
she tells him stop feeling young
there are so many things you have done

—-

Neither feels done.

carbon

translucent, thin
the paper actress considered the paper theatre
the paper theatre considered the paper actress
the paper theatre created the paper actress
the rice paper butcher paper wax paper world
the carbon paper
the carbon copy people
she, the actress, was not carbon paper, carbon copy
created by the theatre and created just once
the paper actress
no ballerina, she
no spangle, no tin soldier to love
she considered the theatre alone
she considered her carbon copy script
performed carbon copy plays for the carbon copy people
scripts as substantial as tissue paper
wanted to scream sandpaper feel tar paper solid
from the depths of her origami soul
of folded tracing paper
intricate, transparent
she felt the wrapping paper change of a prettier outside
and stepped onstage again

—–

Not sure whether I like the ending, or the title… May need work.

truth/revision/decision

I’ve written things that were true at the time that are no longer true.
I won’t go back and change them, because when I wrote them they were true.
I’ve written things that I thought were true at the time, that turned out not to be true.
I’ve written to figure out the truth.
I’ve written to conceal the truth.
No revisions on the basis of truth. I can revise in a writer-ly craft way, and do – but if I changed things because they were no longer true, I wouldn’t have any time for new writing.
And some things just can’t be revised.
“Technicalities”? Rewriting it to reflect the present would likely mean scrapping it entirely. (Due to the fact that we’re dating and suchforth.) But the whole concept of revising to reflect the now is incredibly flawed, because that was somewhat of a… snapshot, I suppose… of my mental state at that point in time, and how I feel now doesn’t actually change how I felt then.

And this is all true.