Monday, September 11, 2006

On Dates

Sometimes I think we have an institutional compulsion to date everything just to keep ourselves chained to the past. Everything has to be dated – checks, notes, emails, papers. Every time I write a date, my mind goes on a search, looking through the mental files for the significance – for the past.

“On this day in 1982…”
“On this day in 1976…”
“On this day in 1949…”
“On this day in 1998…”

And I giggle.
Or I sigh.
Or I grimace.
Or I cry.

But I remember.
I remark.
I notice.

If only writing the date weren’t so goddamn ubiquitous, maybe we could live in the moment – maybe we could live in the now. But the date – that goddamn date – it sucks me in every time.

F---ing dates.

Why can’t I just write “today”?

Because then I would never write “yesterday”.

And when would I write “tomorrow”?

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Yeah, dates are hard to get.


I'm sorry, which type of dates are you talking about?