Vidal's Verse

I am still haunted by memories and feelings that should have long ago passed. The problematic curse of an almost perfect memory. Do I remember the days perfectly or do I remember her as being perfect?

These are just stories told poetically. This is a place for my words to live. Some lead good lives and others not so much. I would call these Poetic Stories. 

The Unfortunate Autobiographers

Lately I have been having trouble turning the page. It terrifies me to think that if I do a character I like so much might only be an authors terrible attempt at building a back story and will only have a bit part. I want her to be a main character in this story. If I turn the page there may be a plot twist or something terrible waiting for me on the page following that I may not want to face, which is to say she will not be there facing it also. There is no book mark to place in the spot just in case you want to come back to it. Who wants to relive the same old piece of a story anyways? Not to say that I am completely at the mercy of a strange author I do not know, this just so happens to be an autobiography. An autobiography that is not only being written by me, but by the very character who threatens to write herself out of it. And here is where the catch is laid by the authors, the problem that arises with co-writers when it comes to autobiographies. Each author trying their best to write something wonderful for themselves, but when those pages collide the stories may not sync to the others liking. So what is an author and reader alike to do? I don’t know, but what I do know is the right questions to ask. What is a book if you do not read it thoroughly, what is life if you do not live it hazardously?

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