I was fascinated by Erin Biba's "Amber Ale: Brewing Beer from 45-Million-Year-Old Yeast" story when I came across it in the August issue of Wired Magazine. The beer was an interesting aside; I was more taken with amber and the idea of resurrecting dormant things.
As the list of entries show, I've been delinquent in posting. Some of it I attributed to the psychological dislocation involved with moving to Savannah, Georgia; the rest I think was the result of the aftermath of the accident--the life I lived before it seeming so long ago and inaccessible. I survived the accident, the surgery, physical therapy--for which I'm extremely grateful--but have been at a loss in terms of direction.
Which is why the notion of amber resonated so profoundly with me. The task of sifting through my psyche for chunks of insight started overwhelming me to the point where I found it difficult to express my thoughts with words--something I've never had a problem with before. Words have always been my refuge--my way of making sense of the incomprehensible. Last month marked my 20-year anniversary of writing seriously, and I...let it pass without commemorating it in the ways I felt I should have.
Though my words (and posts) have been few, my experiences these past nearly ten months have been many. I think that, like Dr. Cano (the Wired story's protagonist), I've been trying to figure out what to do with my findings. He was lucky enough to come up with a new beer. Me, I'm working on a special brew of my own. Until I bring it to fruition, I guess I'll keep tinkering with words--on pages real and virtual instead of keeping them locked inside my head.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment