Life should be played by accordions, covered in snow, filled with hot toddies, and laughed at by family. Life should be step-danced and free-form clogged. Dean Crouch and Ivan Hajek should fill the world. Ramon Ayala should play and sing my accordion dreams. I have a lot of those–accordion dreams. Life should be spoken in Spanish, in poetry, in flowery prose. Flowery prose should never be condemned.
But I know my rules. Flowery prose is not allowed. Passive voice is not allowed, and yet there it is, disallowed by no one specifically and, therefore, passive.
I want to play my life in accordions, step-dance it, cover it in Spanish, and walk it out in the snow. I will speak it in poetry and never let go of flowery prose, because flowers are God’s own art, and I am in rapture.
I know my rules. I will never sit passively when there is something in this world to do (she ironically wrote as she sat behind her computer screen.)