Saturday, August 02, 2003


Write about something that you haven't particularly thought about for at least five years.
This is a difficult task. Boynton is not being facetious in saying that she can't remember what she has forgotten. The data always seems to be present, recoverable. When it's taken out of the cupboard and examined it doesn't seem to have been neglected, just to have dimmed. Stand-by mode. Last night in that hypnagogic state she tried to recall some missing piece from the jigsaw of people, places, things, skills, names, settings, rules, dates, dreams, sentiments... but drew a blank. The registry possibly gets corrupted with age or denial. Or inversely with age -all memories are safely encoded, at hand, on tap. She doesn't like to think about the things that are lost or even that possibility. Anyway - all she could come up with after half an hour was a pair of boots. And this was only because she had recently found them idling at the back of the wardobe, when she needed a quick costume for a themed party. They were never fashionable - but they were destined to be worn at this event, which is no doubt why many years ago she paid $10 for them at the op-shop (the price still marked loudly on the soles). And as soon as she put them on, she remembered that old boot feeling, that character in the heels again, a bit of bravado as quick as champagne, a little dutch courage. Maybe this is why some actors start with the shoes. And something in the boot was sufficient to channel the sort of themed character she was remembering from the outer reaches of pop culture. (Even though it was probably obvious to no one but herself, who she was, who she was meant to be) These boots are made for walking.

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