Recently themes of identity, boundaries, and singularity keep entering my life.

I don’t have any deep or unique statements to make on these topics but they do remind me of a project that has been in my head for a number of years and I figure it’s time to get it out on paper. I have no clue where this idea came from but one day I dreamed of getting a beautiful old wooden card catalog and filling it with cards that held all the details of my life. Drawers with facts, interests, mistakes. I imagined cards with the different addresses I’ve lived at. Others would list artists I admire; Richter, Almodovar, Motherwell, Serra. Cards that gave the latin and common names of plants that fascinate me, descriptions of prize possessions, people I’ve loved, or awesome days and charmed moments.

An important detail of this dream is that each of the cards actually functions as an index card would, with a simple subject on the front and description on the back. One might read:

Front: Kitty Key
Back: Hard to believe it took me until 2011 to purchase the amazingly adorned key that I’ve lusted after for so many years.

If I was feeling particularly advantageous I’d sketch of picture of the key on the front as well, just to show how awesome the rainbows and stars that surround the lisa frank esq kitty’s really are. Simple, insignificant and yet important to me, which makes it worth having a spot in the card catalog.

Many times, I’ve come close to making this project real, still not knowing exactly what about it appeals to me. I think having it might make me feel safe. That it could do something I can’t. I like the idea of looking up “East of Eden” and seeing what few sentences my 27 year old self choose to write about that epic book.

The funny thing is, that while it seems this would be something that details truths, I know that it would hold more bias and coincidence than anything else. Now that I say it, I think this fact is exactly what appeals to me about the little scheme. A collection of amusing details is probably the closest I’ll ever come to standing back and seeing some version of myself looking back at me.

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