I searched flickr using ‘writing’ and found this interesting image.
“The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible.” ~ Vladimir Nabakov
That is how I feel when I sit here. All day long, thoughtswirling, ripe forelease into paper, or onto this screen. Then I sit here, with less than what I came with.
Where is my Red Light Stopping piece? The writing exercise that will describe my daily commute. It’s not the going in life, but the imposed stopping. Controlled fully by red lights, less fully by stop signs. How long and how far in between each interruption oflow? Why stop at all? Why not just not go?
Then there is the swirling work on 7 Tools needed by every man. The five gallon bucket, leatherman, ductape, coat hanger, 10′ of rope, hatchet/hammer and shovel. The bucket is key, however, all seven elements are multifunctional.
I should just write or type. Oh wait, I am.