Notes.

Something is always left as a clue, and my mind is very perceptive to my own
clues. Perhaps if it were not typed out and were something written out in my own hand writing I could recognize it? Though I doubt that theory because my writing often changes its shape as well during my younger days. It was not until much later that my A’s were A’s. Which is a relief, because though you could never mistake an A for a B, often how and where you use it assigns many meanings to my A’s. Take away my clues and I am clueless, but then I always leave the clues. Its not a conscious decision, but perhaps no matter how much I disown everything I write, I know that it is my own, and I would like to recognize a familiar face when I see it. Youth was yesterday, and how often do we desperately want to hold on to it? The same structure, with the understanding of today -  a vile wish really, for change anything about yesterday, and today is never as it is now; and that is where things get really messy. So clues and hints are all I need to relish yesterday as today. And I like the surprise of discovering something that never was yesterday or today, but only in the act of looking back. It makes the whole idea very fascinating.