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Bound, Boundless - De File
Does Collecting Make You Feel Dirty?
cbertsch
cbertsch
Bound, Boundless
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From: zokah Date: June 9th, 2005 05:21 pm (UTC) (LINK TO SPECIFIC ENTRY)
is that it? the story end there?
cbertsch From: cbertsch Date: June 9th, 2005 05:38 pm (UTC) (LINK TO SPECIFIC ENTRY)
I refer to it as my "dalliance." In the fall of 1992, while we were walking the picket-lines as graduate-student employees, I ran into to someone I'd met working at University Press Books in the summer of 1991. She was already a grad student back then and seemed, on the face of it, to be losing it. But I was captivated by her intellect and her intensity. People on the edge have always exerted a strong pull on me despite or perhaps because of my superficial regular-guy-ness. Anyway, she disappeared at the end of that summer, just as I was starting graduate school. I heard rumors that she'd gone away, possibly to recover from whatever had been making her so taut. I was very glad to see her again back in November, 1992 and even gladder to learn that she was better. As it turned out, we were taking a class on postmodernism together in the spring of 1993. The more time we spent together, the more powerful the friction between us grew. Then, one night in April, we had dinner after class -- we'd done that several times already -- and I drove her home on my way back to Vallejo. Only she didn't get out of the car. Two hours later, I finally said goodbye to her and headed home. I explained my tardy arrival by stating that I'd been working in the library, which was true of that day but not of that evening. The next day, Friday, I drove to campus and parked on Northside, as I did back then. Since I hooked up with Kim to see a movie, I just left my car there and figured I'd pick it up over the weekend. Sure enough, Kim and I took a drive, stopping at the UC Berkeley botanical gardens and then visiting Amoeba, where I purchased the brand-new New Order single "Regret," which I was greatly interested in hearing. When she dropped me back off at my car, there was a plastic bag wrapped around the mirror. She wondered why. Inside it was a note. It was a clearly amorous thank-you for a wonderful night. Kim logically assumed that I'd done more than I actually had and ran off hurt. On the way home, I got a ticket for running a red light, somewhat unfairly. By the time I got back to Vallejo, things were really bad. There were a series of big scenes that night, followed by equally messy attempts to make up, however provisionally. I did get to hear my New Order song over and over, musing on the irony of its title. And at some point the photos on my cinder block were torn up in a fit of rage. Does that help?
From: zokah Date: June 9th, 2005 05:48 pm (UTC) (LINK TO SPECIFIC ENTRY)
"help?" well, I appreciate the indulgence to my curiosity feeling as if I were left with BBB (Blogs Blue Balls) so to speak.

You rarely speak on your personal-with-Kim history, and for that I am thankful for the glimpse into the prior chapters of the book.
cbertsch From: cbertsch Date: June 9th, 2005 06:04 pm (UTC) (LINK TO SPECIFIC ENTRY)
Ah, but I'm often speaking about it, just obliquely. Over the past six weeks I'd guess that 75% of the entries were about her or us. During less intense times the percentage drops to somewhere between 25% and 50%.

If you're interested, here are a few older entries that go into great detail:

This one is about lots of things, including how we met.

This one refers back to the previous entry and focuses more on the night we met.

This one is about Kim's performance poetry and art-exhibiting days.

• The previous entry is a preface to the copy I wrote for Kim's show in Vallejo.

This one</em> is more about the problem of writing the past, but includes autobiographical material.
From: zokah Date: June 9th, 2005 06:39 pm (UTC) (LINK TO SPECIFIC ENTRY)
I should've phrased differently, more specifically I should have said, you rarely offer up history in less oblique terms.
cbertsch From: cbertsch Date: June 9th, 2005 06:42 pm (UTC) (LINK TO SPECIFIC ENTRY)
True enough!
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