When I first moved to Boston I had a really, like, incredibly overwhelming feeling when I first set foot onto Harvard Univesity--like, I had a feeling like I knew all the dorms and knew where the library was, I felt like Harvard Square was somehow "wrong" because it had changed so much, etc. And then, during that period in my life, I started having these really lucid dreams where it was, like, 1969-1970, and I was this really thin, blonde Harvard student with a girlfriend, and we went on picnics together to Cape Cod.
In the dreams I was from Saratoga Springs, New York (yeah, what's up with THAT?) and I drove a yellow VW bug. The girl and I were completely in love, and I was studying literature (not writing but, you know, I was one of those English grad school nerds who spout Byron). And in one of the dreams, I saw myself driving home to New York for Christmas (this is how I got the Saratoga Springs part) hitting a patch of ice and getting into an accident on the Massachusetts Turnpike.
Strange. I actually played around with the idea of looking to see if there might have been a blonde, straight, unbelievably thin English major from Saratoga Springs, NY who was a student in 1969-1970 who got killed in a car accident, but then I just kind of, I don't know--I'm not sure if I really want to know the answer, ya know? If there was such a person, do I go visit the guy's grave? Do I track down the girl and be like "Remember the English major you were in love with in grad school who was killed in that car accident during the Johnson Administration? Well, I've been reincarnated as a flaming gay 21st Century bear writer from Amish Country, hotcakes! Tell me, how was my funeral?"
So yeah. Who knows--maybe YOU were the girl and we're only meeting now at the Brownstone to make up for bad karma. But, even if it's complete bullshit it makes me feel good that, in the last life I may have studeied writers, but now I actually get to be one. It makes me feel like I'm on the right path, somehow.
Tell me, if you died tomorrow, what would you want to return as?
I experience deja vu all the time...feeling like I've done some of these things before, but not in this life...a previous life. That is a deep question...if I died tomorrow, what would I want to return as?...I'm not sure if I'd want to be much different than I am now. Not saying that I am perfect by any stretch...but I am fairly content in my life so far, and where things are going. Sure, there are little things that I would probably change, but I think on the whole, I'm happy. I wouldn't mind coming back a few hundred years in the future though to see how we have evolved as a race of people, or to see if Al Gore is right and that we will have indeed blown up the planet...
When I first moved to Boston I had a really, like, incredibly overwhelming feeling when I first set foot onto Harvard Univesity--like, I had a feeling like I knew all the dorms and knew where the library was, I felt like Harvard Square was somehow "wrong" because it had changed so much, etc. And then, during that period in my life, I started having these really lucid dreams where it was, like, 1969-1970, and I was this really thin, blonde Harvard student with a girlfriend, and we went on picnics together to Cape Cod.
In the dreams I was from Saratoga Springs, New York (yeah, what's up with THAT?) and I drove a yellow VW bug. The girl and I were completely in love, and I was studying literature (not writing but, you know, I was one of those English grad school nerds who spout Byron). And in one of the dreams, I saw myself driving home to New York for Christmas (this is how I got the Saratoga Springs part) hitting a patch of ice and getting into an accident on the Massachusetts Turnpike.
Strange. I actually played around with the idea of looking to see if there might have been a blonde, straight, unbelievably thin English major from Saratoga Springs, NY who was a student in 1969-1970 who got killed in a car accident, but then I just kind of, I don't know--I'm not sure if I really want to know the answer, ya know? If there was such a person, do I go visit the guy's grave? Do I track down the girl and be like "Remember the English major you were in love with in grad school who was killed in that car accident during the Johnson Administration? Well, I've been reincarnated as a flaming gay 21st Century bear writer from Amish Country, hotcakes! Tell me, how was my funeral?"
So yeah. Who knows--maybe YOU were the girl and we're only meeting now at the Brownstone to make up for bad karma. But, even if it's complete bullshit it makes me feel good that, in the last life I may have studeied writers, but now I actually get to be one. It makes me feel like I'm on the right path, somehow.
Tell me, if you died tomorrow, what would you want to return as?
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