Friday, August 13, 2004

Ink from the Gene Pool

The other night , because I was forced to bed at 10 pm by my dearest daughter, I found myself awake at 2 am, restless. I began to read the latest issue of Tin House, specifically a story by Dan Deweese. It was about a woman who realized she could write just like her father. Not his style but his handwriting.

I write just like my father. A father I haven't spoken to in years by my own choice.

At first it was considered a good sign. It meant that maybe I would be a lawyer like my father or better yet a doctor because everyone knows how bad a doctor's handwriting can be.
But then when my father left my mother my handwriting was a reminder.
I was told to write neater. My handwriting became a problem in school. My mother would sit beside me in her bed and shake her head as I practiced writing my name in script.

I never became a lawyer or a womanizer like my father.

2 Comments:

Blogger nehanda said...

im totally digging your blog. i'll definately link you up

8/14/2004 09:36:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Lo que yo no entiendo... ¿O sea, lo que no tiene nada de sentido: es que diantres haces leyendo un "literary journal?" Yo creia que vos no hacia eso. Que eran muy muy "white."

Estas cambiando, flaca.

¡¡Pero yo voy a ser el primero decirtelo, es por lo mejor--hay mas dinero y oportunidades dandoles a los gringos lo que quieren!! Y te ayuda que tienes el color de ellos tambien... jajajaja Ojala que te estes diviertiendo ahorita. Supongo que si...

¡Ciaosito!

8/14/2004 09:17:00 PM  

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