Decided to commune with blue today. Listening to Robert Plant and Allison Krauss - don't love the entire album, but it's growing on me. Feeling more visual than verbal...
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Listening to the hum of the refrigerator with its malfitted seal; to the steady swinging of the dated ceiling fan in the kitchen, whose clacking competes with the tick of the mantle clock, a wedding gift from Chris’s dad. Some desperate bird is marco-polo-ing through the brief pause in spring downpour; I don‘t think his friends want him to find them. Cool air spits ineffectively through the screens, and a melodramatic home impovement show mutters in the living room - it’s imported on BBC so it must be enriching.
No over-spilling ashtray keeps my keyboard chalked these days. My head doesn’t hurt this Saturday morning. Breakfast is staying put. I ate breakfast in the morning. After I slept.
And I find the urgency to lay my bloody entrails on page has gone. I’ve licked them clean, put them back generally where they belong, and only remember when the barometric pressure drops that they used to hurt.
Is it possible to be creatively raw in a state of contentment?
Posted by siridog at 12:25 PM