O Uncle Adrian!
I’m in the reservation of my mind.
for the Forgotten Oldsmobile,”
poem by Adrian C. Louis
“I think every
writer stands in the doorway of their prison. Half in, half out. The very act of
storytelling is a return to the prison of what torments us and keeps us captive,
and writers are repeat offenders. You go through this whole journey with your
prison, revisiting it in your mind. Hopefully, you get to a point when you
realize there was beauty in your prison, too. Maybe, when you get to that point,
“I’m on the reservation of my mind” can also be a beautiful thing. It’s on the
res, after all, where I learned to tell stories.
So there is power
in this. I get to pick and choose what the prison means to me, float in between
the prison bars, return in my mind when and how I want to. We’re all cursed to
haunt and revisit the people and places that confine us. But when you can pick
and choose the terms of that confinement, you, and not your prison, hold the
Sherman Alexie in
an interview by Bob Ivry,
Reservation of His Mind.”