Recently I was asked by a friend if I wanted to ride around on the way to pick up her daughter a little later. I texted back “I can put clothes on, what time?” I was wearing PJ’s contemplating how I could get sleep as I have deprived myself for far too long of this simple and essential part of living. With her response as it was I pulled off my pajamas and tossed on clothes. My smaller camera bag was already packed minus a camera. Into the bag went a camera and as I stepped out my door texted I was ready.

As we pulled away she asked a question that prompted me to tell a story about moments in my life and off my mouth went as my camera emerged and the shutter sounded with the lens looking out the window. We wound through the park, Golden Gate Park for non San Francisco residents. It was glorious to see people out doing what they do. Bike riders, walkers, joggers and everything else. As we wound through the Presidio I just kept chatting away with each ask on what I had been rambling on about.

I am always surprised when anyone comments on my incessant chatter that I am a good storyteller and have had interesting experiences. I take this as a complement and yet, I am just me, another person and human, what makes a good story about me and what I have gone through? As I think through this today I find inspiration.

My thought have turned to sharing some of these stories. How about a memoir style journal series of some snippet or moment as I recount the events that some find they like to hear. I like to write and I hope I can incorporate media of multiple types; photos, audio, mixed media of the digital and physical form.

This comes to mind, aside from the lyrics gender reference that is obvious to anyone who has the wrong pronouns lobbed like grenades in their direction is often more attune to, good match lyrically, kinda, but only knda.

I am flipping through the card catalogue of some of the vocal reenactments searching for one to recount here as a start. I think I will let you know when I find one I want to step out with. OK?

In the mean-time, photos for your eyes (and audio above, I bet you noticed that though), I do hope I might entertain you while I try not to get a paper-cut searching for a memory to tell.

Just why does this seem appealing to me? I ask this question to myself my description begins with the duh, obvious response: Maybe someone will like it, then quickly moves on to more meaningful things. As the story teller it could help me and may have the same effect on someone who takes this in. Yep, that is a big broad statement and says next to nothing I know. In sharing these stories there might be those who relate or see something in themselves just slightly different than before to nudge a part of them in the direction of whatever it is that it does, better be a good nudge though. Least of which is to entertain, but this is just a symptom or side effect. not a goal. Then there is those who might be challenged and to those the phrase “Art is to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.”

When I start compiling these I will tag them with #memoir and whatever title is settle on.