There are those times when an exegesis on some current event, local or abroad, has substantial appeal. When exploring multiple takes on a story in India, in Palestine, in South Central provide ample fodder for a unique take on some feature of the human condition. When understanding that the machinery of global political economics works not only far far away but also next door, when there are people here experiencing the same exact things as people there. The people here are just like the people there.
There are those times when a story you heard from a friend made you laugh in ways that would elicit suspicion from some people in some circles. When the story is intricate, detailed, funny, and lovely. Yet simple. Not elegant in the slightest because everything is messy. Just like a human condition fraught with loops and tangles and ridiculousness. That my friend’s people are just like my people. The people there are just like the people in my heart and on my mind.
And then there are those times when you just want to make your own stories. When you want to take everything and turn the people here into people there, and vice versa. When you want to turn the connections that you feel in the deepest parts of you into a legible mess for others to take a look at. When the spaghetti loops between the dendrites and axons light up, flashing off ways in which my people, imagined and otherwise, begin moving and talking, embodying my hopes, fears, lives, laughs, and wanting to burst out of the tiny spaces in my head. And onto paper canvas, onto emails, and into blog posts.
