Searching for a notebook I wrote in the early 1970s, I dragged 3 dusty cardboard boxes down from the attic and into the place we call "the orange room"... - Hallo friend USA IN NEWS, In the article you read this time with the title Searching for a notebook I wrote in the early 1970s, I dragged 3 dusty cardboard boxes down from the attic and into the place we call "the orange room"..., we have prepared well for this article you read and download the information therein. hopefully fill posts Article HOT, Article NEWS, we write this you can understand. Well, happy reading.

Title : Searching for a notebook I wrote in the early 1970s, I dragged 3 dusty cardboard boxes down from the attic and into the place we call "the orange room"...
link : Searching for a notebook I wrote in the early 1970s, I dragged 3 dusty cardboard boxes down from the attic and into the place we call "the orange room"...

Searching for a notebook I wrote in the early 1970s, I dragged 3 dusty cardboard boxes down from the attic and into the place we call "the orange room"...

... even though it's not orange anymore. Last month, I'd moved one big attic box into that room and spent a day searching for the notebook, then left the "orange room" looking like a stage set at the end of Act I. The character (me) has been rooting around for the notebook and flinging old manuscripts on the floor.

After yesterday, as the curtain opens on Act II, the set looks like this:

Time has passed. The character is still looking. But the truth is, when I sat down in that chair to do a new session of rooting and flinging, I took the first item off the top of the pile on the table, and — lo and behold — it was the notebook! 

I was thrilled to find the notebook, which is 139 handwritten pages of the effort I made, when I was in my early 20s, to preserve my memories of childhood. I might tell you some more about that some time. The entries are numbered. There are 130 of them. Are they like blog posts? Yes and no. In blogging, I'm much more cagey about how much I let you see into my private life.

As the orange room continues in that Act II condition, I'm at my table in the room we call "the big room" on what is the 6,690th day of writing this blog. The blue notebook is at my elbow, expecting to be read. Now that I've found it, I know where it is and don't need to wolf it down suddenly. I want to observe myself reading it. Are these the memories I remember? Is this an unremembered thing juxtaposed to an intact memory?

Meade wasn't around when I dragged the boxes out of the attic and into the orange room, but this morning, he found a little scrap of newsprint that had flown free of one of the boxes and landed on the hallway floor. One can only guess how this snippet got to survive in our attic all these years, but I'm sure it never expected life would end so good:

Thus articles Searching for a notebook I wrote in the early 1970s, I dragged 3 dusty cardboard boxes down from the attic and into the place we call "the orange room"...

that is all articles Searching for a notebook I wrote in the early 1970s, I dragged 3 dusty cardboard boxes down from the attic and into the place we call "the orange room"... This time, hopefully can provide benefits to all of you. Okay, see you in another article posting.

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