without the click or slide of plastic, I extricate myself from the isles I found myself meandering. I’d intended a hardware run with list in hand. but like a mindless drunk lifting the bottle to my lips, at the circle circled red dot, I turned in. what the hell!?! how is it that I am at this residency at capacity with amazing artists, in a drop dead gorgeous landscape at my senses beck and call, pampered with chef and housekeeper and my legs are pumping me up and down the isles of Target? omg. is it about some freakin kind of safe sameness that I cling even when there is so much before me, right here, right now? perhaps it is the illusion that the next cute outfit will move and motivate me out of isolation, smooth my innard awkward social gate, or with the latest 5 buck video, I’ll be hunkering down in the hermitage. I know why Target–pacification–mind eye candy without costly plastic sliding damage. but it doesn’t work. I have so much to do, that I actually want to do, I’ve only got this one life so I actually don’t understand this regular stuckness which naturally replicates… stuckness I keep embedding in.
I wonder how our culture, how i, would be different if we/I simply went back to thumb sucking. just think of all the money we would save and how sober we would be, if we quit trying to mask our awkward thumb sucking innard anxieties in our consumptive grown up ways.
needless to say and obvious by this post, I awoke kind of internally funky this drizzly morning, contemplating several tasks at hand to be used to redirect whatever thinkings got me stuck again.
awe my morning on the pond not thwarted as I write and thumb my iPhone under the canopy of my purple poncho. yes I came prepared! so my morning ritual continues as the drizzle and the funk tapers off. so each morning I try to future cast my way and untangle that which hinders. remembering to untangle the lines and whatever the hell I do, don’t pull the threads Kathy!
chairs and table call me.0