I have been thinking about how much I love the sound of the local woodpecker, working his way through the telephone pole up the hill.
I have been thinking about how hard this winter will be, waking up before dawn and without the spread of light from across the bay.
I have been thinking about one local idea of glamour, high heels with jeans and French manicures, like hooker-housewives from the 80's.
I have been thinking about my volunteer crew, how eagerly they tore in to their new case files, and how many of them left our last meeting with wet eyes.
I have been thinking about all the remains of past life, all the dormant art curled up in shreds of paper, as I edit down for the move to our next home.
I think a lot. I just don't write.
posted by ttractor @ 11:28 PM
4 Comments:
no one is writing much anymore.
Everyone else is on Facebook. I just don't have the subway commute and home life set up to make art. When I think of how dim my life was before I started trying to make art every day, I know I can't go back to that. But I'm not sure of the way forward, either.
You left a wonderful book of poetry at my house once. Thank you.
i don't either. but i'm glad we're both still THINKING art. that has to count for something.
And just a few weeks ago, here I was creating again for the first time in four years.
M E R C Y !
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