I feel as if I could speak, write, or paint on the side of a building any potential sequence of words, but I still might not get it said. I’m continuing to move forward through my to-do list, which is daunting. Everything is related to everything else, or nothing else, but cross things off I am, and I’m down to hard things. Do you know what I mean?
How I relate to the world has taken a sea change; some things seem easier now than others, and some are more difficult, and some are demanding to be done first. The days grow shorter; there is an illusion of less time. There is certainly less daylight. It matters less in the city; who cares if it is light or dark? There is always something open, something good to see or to do.
For example, check out this gorgeous solution to a very narrow problem, as seen in Cambridge.
When I went to Tucson last month, I meant to make metal, as I’m still behind the eight-ball financially (and with my final press bill due in ten days) but my metals bench was under a layer of enchanting treasures.
I’ve been smallerizing for years now, and everything that’s left has got a story; the remaining treasures are things that need to be explained as they are passed on.
I went to the cigar store yesterday for a stack of beautiful wooden boxes. To get them, I took assorted transport and passage; first our car (delivered to the Navy Yard for Bri) then a bridge to walk over, two trains and a bus home (the Central Square stop was a total freakshow of the heart) and four more blocks to walk from the bus stop. I staggered in the door, feeling happy.
Yesterday and today, I’ve been mailing back the final wave of pieces that I have been holding from others. It’s time to let go, give my thanks. I have two pieces left that I cannot identify, they are unusual, made by the same hand. I will post them on the Book Blog today or tomorrow. I did not succeed with everything I have been holding; I always think that I can do anything if I keep trying, but it is not always the case.
Speaking of trying, I’ve been practicing with the FOUNTAIN PEN that Kyle Cassidy gave me (thank you, Kyle) and writing small poems to go with the items I’m placing in each cigar box; filling the space not only with tiny things that have meant something to me, but with the thoughts and words and attention and love that they have commanded from me; small personal vignettes. I think that there will be 22 boxes.
If you are interested in seeing them, keep an eye on this space.