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Archive for the category “In Memory of Harold Maus”

Maus Represented: An Observation

An observation
The persistence of those few
Who fall low but rise

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Maus Represented: Fragment I

There are truths lying dormant in the recesses of human discovery,

Things long past learned and forgotten under veils of myth and legend,

Disguised by ancient kings who knew too well the price of knowing.

Maus Represented: Letters Unsent

November 30, 2012  23:00

I was thinking of you today, and the memories we’ve created; the times we’ve stayed up too late and stood in the cold too long. I remember talking about the future and that we dreamt our schemes could change the world and that our words could heal broken hearts and comfort those lost along the road.

I know we haven’t talked in a while now, and now those moments seem so long away that I wonder if we’ve met before. It’s as though I am looking at an old photograph showing children playing in field, and their faces can’t be seen, but the field is green and there’s the promise of a full harvest, yet, in the sky, are clouds that threaten rain as though foretelling some devastation.

You never liked the heart-felt things, but now I feel the need to write you and remind you of these moments. Especially of our writings, because we made a promise to co-author books someday and to change the world of literature; I’m holding you to that. I remember one night, I think the first time I came to your house, you showed me your pile of notebooks and those loose papers and your folders of ideas. Poems and stories and observations; we spent hours going through them and counting pages, arguing about whose pile was bigger.

I was happy when we decided to go to my house and see for certain; mine was larger by twenty pages, though you had more complete story ideas. I’m not sure why I was thinking about that today or why I remember the numbers:

We were both fourteen and during the summer of 2006 you had thirty-two pages of poetry or outlines, seven novel ideas, and ten short stories contained in two, seventy-five page notebooks, and ten folders containing ninety-eight loose-leaf pages, plus twenty pages of observations, two napkins and restaurant place-mat. Totaling a score of two-hundred and sixty-five pages, two napkins and a place-mat filled to various degrees.

I had thirty-seven pages of poetry or outlines, two novel ideas and nine short stories contained in two notebooks and seventeen folders containing one hundred and twenty-nine loose-leaf pages, plus forty-two pages of observations, a piece of cardboard and cloth napkin. Totaling two-hundred and forty-six pages, a piece of cardboard and a fancy napkin filled to various degrees.

I remember was I was disappointed for the loss, but I’m certain the folders made my pile seem bigger.

That’s why I started thinking about you in the first place; I’m trying to organize my folders and I’m looking at some of the poems from around that time and I’m remembering all the poems I wrote about you and for you, which I always showed to you though I said they were for someone else. I wonder what you’d have thought had you known the truth and what you think now that you know it (if you remember how I remember).

Well, it’s getting late now and I imagine this enough for a letter at the moment.

I hope all is well with you,

Your friend,

Harold Maus

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