You were Bill the last time I saw you, or I thought so! I was Donna, now I am Dona with one "N". It has been a lot of years. I have recreated the women I am over and over, searching. I am once again recreating myself. Usually I come to the computer at night, too tired for a life with too many assessments and memories. Of course depending on who is stimulating my thoughts, I begin to write. I am keeping my commitment for myself. I can't say I want to exercise my ability to write well at this time of night. I'm not sure what I can even say except for some far off memory, logged in a distant file. I just spit out whatever I want. Such control; I am can be careless with my words when writing, unless otherwise being pointed into refinement. I am fond of writing poems when stimulated, as my words form a poetic blaze. I love those opportunities. Poetic words only have to have form for me. A purely selfish act sending words into the universe. I do wonder if there is anything other than words, here? Your words: "You make many mistakes in your writing. If you pay more attention, you'd see them and correct them. Or, get a copy editor”, In William’s terms "Respect your Language." Do I have to pay so much attention?
Oh I don't want to be conscious and assessed. I have a husband for that and he is often my copy editor. I will always seem to need one. I do know I need freedom. I respect words and the imagined they create at this point. Perhaps that is what paralyzes me when writing...an assessment factor of a perfectionist. So what else do you have to teach me William of a Memory! A memory of so much unfettered action and emotion. Perhaps freedom was not at the beginning in our youth. I wish I could have let you take my virginity. It was lost in Spanish Harlem and he thought I was lying when I told him. I just wanted to have extra care for my first time in my mystery and fear. He didn’t get care, too many ugly moments and it became another. That part was the truth when I told Franco. I didn’t get care as he pushed me only to discover I had been honest. I leaned against the sink and the evidence was complete. I wish you were my first William, not only my first thrill. Now you have become an editor of who I have been and who I want to become.
