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so I couldn't really tell.
It had to end though. We bid farewell for the second time this past weekend. Like most hearty reunions, we shared some nostalgia. We thought about where we were the first time we shared her poignant adolescent life moments: in the bath during spring surprise, on my mom's couch during Assassin, NJtransit to NY during the completely unnecessary but entirely welcome Sin Jun revelation, in my bed during Cross's first visit (juicy), on the R5 coming home from Philly during the painfully degrading in-the-classroom scene.
And we made some new memories too! Remember that day in Starbucks when I sipped peppermint mocha and slurped down your delicious words? I sat at my favorite relaxspot in Philadelphia: the brown lounge chair that allows me to simultaneously people-watch everyone that passes the corner of 15th and Walnut.
Last year in Hava Java Andrew asked me and Jackie what single item we would bring with us on a deserted island. We were sitting at the table closest to the door. I was facing the window, Andrew was to my right. Like my original reading of Prep, every sensual memory associated with this conversation is stamped on my brain. The obvious answer was another person. Living things are exciting and frightening all at once, because they are unpredictable. Especially humans. There is an infinite number of responses within someone else's head. Hence the constant pursuit of conversation. I think that's what I love about Prep so much. Reading it feels like having a cathartic neverwantittoend conversation. Thus, my definition of one type of ideal book (or any art for that matter): one that feels alive. Not in and of itself. But with me.
It had to end though. We bid farewell for the second time this past weekend. Like most hearty reunions, we shared some nostalgia. We thought about where we were the first time we shared her poignant adolescent life moments: in the bath during spring surprise, on my mom's couch during Assassin, NJtransit to NY during the completely unnecessary but entirely welcome Sin Jun revelation, in my bed during Cross's first visit (juicy), on the R5 coming home from Philly during the painfully degrading in-the-classroom scene.
And we made some new memories too! Remember that day in Starbucks when I sipped peppermint mocha and slurped down your delicious words? I sat at my favorite relaxspot in Philadelphia: the brown lounge chair that allows me to simultaneously people-watch everyone that passes the corner of 15th and Walnut.
Last year in Hava Java Andrew asked me and Jackie what single item we would bring with us on a deserted island. We were sitting at the table closest to the door. I was facing the window, Andrew was to my right. Like my original reading of Prep, every sensual memory associated with this conversation is stamped on my brain. The obvious answer was another person. Living things are exciting and frightening all at once, because they are unpredictable. Especially humans. There is an infinite number of responses within someone else's head. Hence the constant pursuit of conversation. I think that's what I love about Prep so much. Reading it feels like having a cathartic neverwantittoend conversation. Thus, my definition of one type of ideal book (or any art for that matter): one that feels alive. Not in and of itself. But with me.
