First, the picture. I know I look a little deranged, but just interpret that as a sort of frenzied brilliance and we can all walk away happy. Taken by a good friend about nine months ago.
The Wind in the Willows is now in my possession in book form. I intended to read it online, but couldn’t bring myself to forgo the experience of having real, tree-killed paper beneath my fingers and my pen. So this afternoon I found myself, almost against my will, stalking the aisles of Borders like a predatory jungle creature in search of its next meal. I found it in Literature, my favorite section since I realized I had read all possible plot variations in the Fantasy and Science Fiction section at least twice. A $10-bill later, and I walk away with hours of potential enjoyment. I hope to “actuate” that potential soon.
My sister. Dear girl, but she’s got me beat. Google “Diana Kimball,” and she’s the first ten links you get, including an IMDb resumé for the short film she made in high school. Google “Spencer Kimball,” and you will find my great-grandfather, the one-time prophet of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (Mormons). Try to get more specific, Google “Spencer Miles Kimball,” and you get my Dad, an economics professor at the University of Michigan (that’s not even his name—he’s Miles Spencer Kimball). In fact, no search ploy I have tried has turned up any evidence that I even exist in the internet. It has begun to make me doubt if I am real. After all, I can’t even find this blog without directly inputting the web address. Maybe someday I’ll forget how to locate it, and then, poof, no more posts!
Ah, well. My lack of trust for the internet is nothing new. It just changes so fast, and I don’t like change terribly much. I don’t like evidence disappearing, information vanishing or mutating faster than I can keep up. It just tires me out. So blogging is kind of a peculiar thing for me to be doing. I suppose it is different because I’m on the controlling end of things. I trust myself to be stagnant, static, and stationary. Sort of.
Right now, I’m thinking about the picture of me again. I really like it, because it shows me when I’m most excited. That doesn’t happen as often as I make it sound. I suppose it’s friendship that brings it out in me—stick me with people I like, and I start talking so fast that I trip over words. It’s a sign of affection, and it’s about trusting them enough to look stupid in front of them. You know when I’m uncomfortable, because I’m very slow to speak, and when I do, I say everything in the right order.
Like here. I say everything in the right order, because I really don’t want to look stupid in front of you. But maybe, if we’re lucky, I’ll get to feel that the whole internet population is made up of my friends, and then there’s no telling how many grammatical errors we will find, together.
Sincerely,
Spencer Miles Kimball
No comments:
Post a Comment