I talked to one of my favorite cousins, I guess my favorite cousin, right now and probably forever, yesterday. It was informative, and it makes sense that I would dream about my grandmother. It’s a shame that we didn’t know more about her. Even if I had kids, no one would ever know much about me either. That kind of hurts, but I’m slowly getting to be ok with that. At least the pressure is off, to be a good person.
I wonder what the point of all this is, and what the point of me is. I know I’m smart. I felt my fingers flutter a little before writing that. Is there really any point of bragging to myself? My father and I talked about that briefly. Briefly, while briefly going over archival copies of magazine articles written about his favorite, and one of my (almost capitalized My, and yes, there still is much of that kind of work to do) favorite uncles.