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It's the late evening on an almost broken typewriter and I write to say again <<I'm Hunter Blanks.>> A peril of living more like a kid than ever is not being so sure about such things. So the start of Wings of Desire reads <<When the child was young, his head was full of questions.... Why am I here and why am I not there? Why am I me and why am I not you>> Despite confusion I say these the important things. That I write this from my home-of-the-year in Berkeley, California; that I'm hoping to finish my degree in Classical Languages at the university this spring. I came from San Antonio and East Texas, went to Deep Springs for my two years, then came here. I started a job in radio networks, then started going to school too, then finally found a home with friends at the coop on 2420 Ridge Rd. I don't know where I'll be after this and I reckon that's alright. It is getting to be time to plan nonetheless. On vacation two weeks ago a stranger asked me if there was something I was passionate about. It threw me back to all these admissions interviews we did back on the farm--we used to ask the same question. And I didn't know what to say. Now yet I can try, and stop my talking afterwards. It's about these things. About my friends most, writing back the same day I hear from anyone, not disappearing, and addressbooks. About new friends too, and countering the lameness that's made me go to sleep without writing this for too damn long. Also to one day coach wrestling, to work in the Boy Scouts--so we give back to even conflicted things that gave a lot to us, and hope we can do them right. To go back to Deep Springs one day for a time to work there. And there are other things--the way of the bicycle, the hermaphrodite motorcycle in the garage downstairs, paints, and always the Artifex. Maybe even this writing. After years, I'm learning to focus on only a few at a time. That's my story; it didn't have to be perfect. If you know me well or don't and you feel like writing me, I mean what I say about writing back. This place the Artifex has some of my best friends tied up in it, and I reckon you'll be able to find me here for as long as I'm around. good night all you kids, Older versions of this page are: |