I am so organized.

I’ve been trying to remember the name of the singing, guitar-playing serenader who wandered from table to table at the California Clipper from around 8:30 till the show started on Saturdays. It occurred to me that I never actually throw anything away, just stuff it into my filing cabinet in no particular order, so I thought I’d poke around and see if I could find one of the flyers with his name on it.

The first file I opened looked like paydirt: right in front were two issues of HOLLER, the Chicago rockabilly zine. I stole one of Sammy’s juice boxes, put on The Jungle Book to distract him, and sat down to look through the mass of papers that I presumed to be from 2001-ish.

Here is what I found all in one single file:

  • The aforementioned two issues of HOLLER, from December 2001 and March 2002.
  • Comatose by Stephanie, which she gave me around Christmas 1997.
  • A birthday card from my mother, year unknown.
  • A print-out of some Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan fiction (“Spike Lying Naked On A Chenille Rug, Part Five” by Valerie). 2001-ish.
  • A card from my father listing items in a care package, from February 1998.
  • This poem that I must have written in the summer of 1996:

    I don’t think Houston Street
    is all that sleazy
    Actually I like the Latino men
    who talk to me
    when I walk past them
    as if they know me
    It’s nice — I see them every day
    I buy my groceries from them
    They smile like they’d maybe like
    for me to meet their sons
    I don’t know — it’s funny
    It’s nice to have someone to talk to
    before I climb the 4 flights of stairs
    to my apartment

  • A letter from Nell from 1997 with a book called Decadence Nothing.
  • A hand-written, unfinished scene from a play (or possible screenplay) about someone named Jo and some punks asleep on her floor. No clues as to the date, but I’d guess early- to mid-90s.
  • A skit called “The Opposite Sex” that I did with Andrew Bostwick at Powell House, circa 1994.
  • The crew list from Ties To Rachel, on which my name is misspelled. Summer 1996.
  • The Hate Journal, by me, which I am afraid to open but believe to be a series of poems and stories about someone I was not very fond of. Probably fall 1997.
  • The playlist of a mix tape I made for Will a very long time ago.
  • A xeroxed sheet that I presume is from my Post-Colonial Text class (spring 1998), called “Chronology 1820-1860.”
  • A type-written story with no author listed. I think probably Nell, as one of the characters is named Merrick and she was in a wee bit of an Anne Rice phase back when we exchanged fiction all the time. Which was approximately 1995.
  • A tablet of very pretty lined paper with card scores for me and Yojo (probably Canasta or Rummy) written in red pen on the back. Circa 2000.
  • A tear sheet of the Ask mama Yoj column and Spiky & Cueball comic from the December 8, 1997 issue of the Antioch Record.

I am in awe of myself. Truly.

11 thoughts on “I am so organized.

  1. oslowe

    June 19, 2008 at 11:27am

    oooh, I wanna see the playlist!

  2. yojo

    June 19, 2008 at 1:01pm

    You must have kicked my ass at Rummy 5 million times :)

    Is the guy you’re thinking about Urban? The sorta wee red-headed guy?

  3. Annika

    June 19, 2008 at 1:04pm

    Yep, I think that was him. WHY DIDN’T I HAVE A BLOG THEN? It would save me SO much trouble in remembering details.

  4. Annika

    June 19, 2008 at 1:07pm

    P.S. One of the Ask Mama Yoj questions is from your subconscious. I am dying.

  5. Kjrstn

    June 19, 2008 at 1:20pm

    I totally love your poem.

  6. yojo

    June 19, 2008 at 1:46pm

    totally have to ask what the question was now.

  7. Nana

    June 19, 2008 at 3:48pm

    Is that birthday card the one that says “stop being younger than me”? ;-)

  8. Annika

    June 19, 2008 at 3:51pm

    Yoj: I emailed you. Mom: yes, it is!

  9. Christine

    June 20, 2008 at 5:24am

    I am the same way – I never throw anything out, and it’s exactly for this reason. Re-experiencing things you’ve nearly forgotten, finding stuff you wrote ten years ago that makes you laugh, or in awe of yourself, or both simultaneously; It’s awesome.

  10. Lauren

    June 21, 2008 at 8:34pm

    That poem makes me smile.

    I’ve thrown basically everything out in the past year or so. It’s cut down on clutter, but I feel like I’m going to regret it someday.

    Lauren’s last blog post..Animals and food.

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