Labor Day Creativity

Man, I don't know what happened, but today I am just full of determination to get way too many things done. Perhaps it's the self-nudge I gave myself when I bought that new bookcase and ended up shifting Spare Oom around a bit. Ever since then I've been itching to get all sorts of things done. I'll be honest, the last few days have been deliberately lazy and decidedly unproductive, at least where writing is concerned, as I needed to unwind from the hell that was last week.

So today I've finished the laundry, vacuumed the apartment, washed the kitchen floor, went outside for an abbreviated walk around the neighborhood to buy stuff at the corner store (and get coffee, of course), checked to see if my scanner still works with the new PC (I haven't used said scanner for at least a few years, and the answer is "yes", though the photo-tweaking software it came with is out of date and doesn't jive with Windows 7)(no worries there, I have PhotoShop, so it worked out!), and it's just hitting 3pm now. I'm wondering what else I need to do today before it gets too late.

Also yesterday, I emptied out that second wooden crate (the one that was underneath the Spare Oom window) and everything is now in the large blue storage bin, which is now sitting next to my bookcase. Everything is now in one area, ready to be sorted, instead of all over the place. The next-to-bottom shelf of the bookcase is now full of manila folders containing random semi-sorted writings, artwork, and other Joncswerk that I'll need to go through. That stuff will stay on the shelf, just in better order once I'm done with it. I haven't decided what to do with that now-empty wooden crate--I may either use that for additional closet storage, or I may keep it in Spare Oom for non-writing files.

But yeah...if this bit of determined creativity is going to stick around awhile, I'm not going to complein. :)

47: Remembering a Street

After a month or so I failed to find my place
The streets looked the same as I'd expected
But they went off in strange directions
And the destinations weren't close at all

I wandered those streets a lot during that time
Trying to figure out which one was my own
Convinced these rain-slicked, darkened streets
Were the right ones despite the apperance

But after awhile I'd come back to where I started
Back in that one-room cave of surfaces and sounds
Of lights left on and images of influences
And I'd hide behind the wall of music and sleep

Years later and I'm remembering a street
The one I'd forgotten so long ago
Starting from the beginning again
And making my way back home

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