Amid the waning of the old year I had moments anxious for it to be over– or I think eager is a better word. But then on January second, in the wake of Jon and J. driving back upstate, there was the inevitable feeling of sadness or loss that the carefree time-between-the-years was over. The holiday break had come to an unceremonious end, as it must. For the remainder of that day, and all the next, I was in a slump, unable to motivate.
But now it is the sixth, a Friday; the slow start transformed into a ramping-up of productivity– meetings, beginnings of new work projects, and the nascent fulfillment of plans made. Last evening I joined the gym at the Y with Adam, in pursuit of fitness! We also had our first lesson in Italian, the second to be Saturday afternoon before the first book club meeting. (I’m very behind on reading this short novel, so tonight must be spent in finishing it.) I’ve also prepared a new batch of jewelry to be resin-filled on the weekend. January is looking to be busy, and that’s good.
Next month: Mexico! How nice to have something to look forward to so shortly after the holidays. The Fire Island crew is also making plans for our trip in the summer (rooms are already booking up!).
My last post (merely a quote) was a month ago. I’d not meant 2012 to get a week long in its teeth before posting something here, but initially there was only a Moomin wistful sadness, without words and without form; only tracing the arabesques of two small fishes from the couch across the room, or waiting for the feeling of a New Year to take hold. It’s never an instantaneous thing.
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions.”
–Rilke
A house in the South Wedge, Rochester, NY
A solitary child on a swing in the playground across the street; 46 degrees F, even on a sunny afternoon, seems to’ve stunted the population there.
I find myself in need of some creative (personal) project; wishing I’d thought in time to begin a calendar for 2012– the armageddon calendar. I’ve given thought to a digital one; that could be designed month-by-month; subscribed, downloaded. A desktop (as in wallpaper) calendar. Alas, my population of ideas or inspirations seems as stunted as the population of the playground at the moment. That may be a blessing in disguise, though; sometimes when I have *ideas*, they go through at least half their imaginary lives in my head as I work them out in too much detail, leaving me feeling ill-inclined to actually bring the idea into the world. Following one’s nose in the dark is sometimes a better approach to art-making.
Reading poems from Sweden on the train the in early dark.
My umbrella on the seat beside me–
orphaned at the transfer.
Here are some of the words, lines like self-sharpening tools:
Passing through walls hurts human beings, they get sick from it,
but we have no choice.
It’s all one world. Now to the walls.
The walls are a part of you.
One either knows that, or one doesn’t; but it’s the same for everyone
except for small children. There aren’t any walls for them.The airy sky has taken its place leaning against the wall.
It is like a prayer to what is empty.
And what is empty turns its face to us
and whispers:
“I am not empty, I am open.”—Tomas Tranströmer, from the poem Vermeer
Today is time to reach 25k in the word count– midway through the month of November.
It’s dark inside today; the darkness of winter has fallen. And yet– I heard the song of the ice cream truck outside around noon. This is because it’s sixty-odd degrees; the playground across the street is filled with parents and their young children. All the streets in my neighborhood are looking very like some urban variation of the Charlie Brown cartoons; half-bare trees, streets and sidewalks blanketed in leaves (gold!), the half-pink, half-blue skies of late autumn.
Five weeks from now the days will begin to grow longer again.
Here’s an oldie, just for fun– Hudson Ave in the rain; Vinegar Hill, Brooklyn
Sunshine, crisp days, and the undertaking of a dedication to write at least 1,667 words per day have helped to snap things back into action. Not to mention a pair of reading glasses. (What a $5.99 pair of +1.25 can do!)
There have been numerous, miscellaneous items on the back burner to-do list for a long time, and I’ve finally been working my way through some of them; oiling my etched copper plates and re-wrapping to prevent tarnish; bringing my bike up from front stoop area for the winter; replacing the broken floor board moulding in the bedroom–also: miscellaneous cleaning, dusting and sweeping. So many little, easy things that take only a few minutes yet are such candidates for procrastination. But the recollection that yes, you can sit down, pull focus, and write over 1500 words in a sitting is a great reminder of how much can be accomplished in a little time.
Update (also just for fun):
Cleaned floors, oven; vacuumed carpets; changed fish filter; more dusting; put some things away that weren’t being used; cleaned sink in bathroom; aired out the apartment on account of the clement weather. Madness! Now writing those 1,667 words…
A map for a thing, utterly unrelated but pretty; based on a lovely from ‘Surveying the Shore’. More on that project later…
Yes, folks, I’m doing it again. NaNoWriMo has officially begun, and even (at this late, late hour) embarked upon its second *official* day. My word count stands, currently, at 1,899– a whopping 232 words beyond minimum goal for one day! But let’s face it, one hasto get ahead to make if through the Thanksgiving holiday with a hope of finishing 50,000 words in 30 days.
I recall from my experience of it a few years ago how great it felt to *focus* on a single creative endeavor for 30 days- and the daily minimum became a daily look-forward-to (pure good-for-me). So here I go again.
Here’s a tiny, tiny excerpt from my formless, rudderless beginnings of a story with no outline, no plot in sight (yet), and all speed ahead:
Kinley loved Sadie’s name because he had a sweet tooth for all things tragic, and when the mood struck he would call her Sad for short. It was a peerless barometer of his emotional state.
See you in the trenches, writers!
(It’s not too late to start, so think on it.)
post script from last entry: still really need a programmable coffee maker. And waterproof winter boots. And pants without holes in that fit well. &c.
Oh- and remind me to post photos of the fishes soon. Fillyjonk is outstripping Wink too much in the growth area, and I worry they may need a new condo too soon for my taste.
It is time to obtain a coffee-maker equipped with the ingenious ability to be set up and programmed before sleep, as, with the arrival of autumn, dreams have returned, en masse.
Little matter what time I go to bed (nor how much or little I may read before actually going to sleep)– in the morning, when the alarm begins to vex, each time i touch the snooze button I slip immediately back into the perpetually shifting, ever-perplexing and often pleasant, sun-dappled or moon-dripped world of irreverent subconscious. And I simply do not want to leave it. Always, “five more minutes, please!”
Therefore the need for the extra reinforcement of the coffee alarm: a second phalanx, in the form of a cartoon-like waft of coffee aroma to lure me out of sleep. Rather more subtle than the harsh voice of the alarm sound– threatening rather than enticing. These days of cool weather, staying in bed a bit longer, beneath layers of sheet and down, with all those stories or scenes unfolding…
The difficulty is that getting into bed in the evening doesn’t hold the same interest or enticement. There is the possibility that sleep may elude. Tossing and turning in wait for slumber is a very different experience to that of half-waking, in which one’s sleepy mind remains between worlds, one foot still across the threshold in places where the color of light can raise or dash empires and oxygen is altogether a different substance, like deep-sea diving in gelatin, or honey.
