randomly, i started thinking about the places i've lived. no reason, really. i remembered little things like how kota the barfy dog's hair used to clump and lay dormant under the couch when i lived on tendoy. and i remembered opening the door to leave my eagle pointe apartment and there was stinky vomit on the balcony railing from the boys living above us. and then i remembered...
i used to live in a yellow house.
off warm springs.
and the name of the street was...
total blank.
i mean, it's no big deal to space out and not remember things, right? happens all the time, right? WRONG. i mean, this was a place i slept at. a place i invited people over to. a place i used to receive mail at and--therefore--must have known the address, including the elusive street name. how could i forget something like that?
what other things have i just forgotten about? did they bring me joy? did i vow to remember them? were they shared with someone-- or was i the only known observer/participator in the event? are those memories now gone forever--like poof, all scents and colors and flutterings of heart are banished to the realm of forgotten, never to be thought of again?
and what else remains to be forgotten?
