This ‘n this

I’ve been going to the gym (I am gonna look SO CUTE for the spring prom) and afterwards, every time, I really want a cigarette. The depressing thing about the gym is seemingly little dudes who sidle up next to you when you’re chosing hand weights and one-up you by thirty pounds.

So this morning I read Andreaa’s new blog entry on memory and babysitting, and I assembled the knowledge that I have been in the position she describes a potential for her client/Baby – forgetting the babysitter. My first babysitter, Hilary Harp, became a sculptor who

[is] interested in creating objects and installations that explore the anxiety and absurdity of human embodiment. [ref.]

I don’t remember Hilary at all, but maybe we influenced each other. After all, I was an anxious kid, and twenty years on, the protagonist of my novel is named Hilary.