The Original of - who now?

Private thoughts, dearest, not for posting. The John Gorka song I heard him sing on a video at the library this afternoon - about how "I" don't want you to see me when I'm like this, and that "I" am very changed from the boy you once knew. Those words spoke to me. [Ed: at home now, cannot for life of me figure out which song - sorry.] I honestly wonder if at least some of his songs (many of these artists' these days) are about you and me. Multiply by i and we're in this strange reality - a hybrid of fact & fiction. At the Dollar Store today I could have sworn that the chorus was singing Jola, Jola, Jola - not I love ya, I love ya, I love ya. But there it is.
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Okay - the song on right now - Cigarette Abana - I'm hearing Jola's in that too. Unless it's Yo Yo Mas? I snacked on a banana today. Plus two minutes ago I posted about how I used to smoke too much. Just sayin'. It all gets piled on!
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I think of an older gentleman of my extremely slight acquaintance who, the second time I ever met him, looked like he had a new lease on life. All he wanted to do is dance. A happy man, now. Not that I had ever known him at all. But his joy and energy and certainty about just what he wanted to do - go dancing - was striking - and charming & amusing. (This was a few years ago, the evening after a funeral that afternoon.) He understood that time is precious & he was still alive & he meant to extract every pleasure he could from every drop. I think you are in that place, too - that's my sense of it.
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I picked a Michael Chabon book off the 800s shelf at the library. The word Maps was in the title. [Ed.: Maps and Legends.] There was no blurb. I opened the book at random and my eyes fell on the word "Nabokov" and I shut the book. Then I was curious so I opened it again. Chabon is talking about - really, just mentions (from what I glimpsed)- Nabokov's fractal writing, all the leaping connections all over the place. The leaps & connections taken together - grand unification.
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I read on Maud Newton I believe, that Nabokov may have envisioned The Original of Laura as a kind of performance piece - perhaps co-written with others. I copied out the words on the image of one of his index cards - but so far nothing has inspired me to make a leap. Maybe I don't have enough to go on - that's what we were doing on the Barefoot Contessa board with those crazy spontaneous parodies - but the shared root was Ina - it was easy to take off from that.
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Oh my darling, it is so mild out, my fleece is just lightly draped on my shoulders, and the sun is warm on my face - the air is still, there's birdsong, a large squawking waterbird has just flown overhead, my citrus tea is hot and delicious, I feel calm & rested, the traffic is flowing, Rafe is perched on the roof of the outbuilding, Penelope is taking baby steps outside, my pen casts a sharp shadow on the page, and I am filled with love for you.