Nomad Ink

Sunday, February 18, 2007

morning again, nothing needs to be done...

that's a line from peter orlovsky. but it's not quite true. i've got a number of "tasks," some oppressively impossible, some pleasant except while i'm contemplating doing them i'm invaded by anxious thoughts about the oppressively impossible ones, and writing this is bringing me no relief so i'll change the subjext, the substance, the introject, the retroject, the gesture, the jester (can i change the jester?), the hexxer. can i? i feel hexxed by my own mind. maybe if i did some of those pleasant tasks rather than simply contemplating them i'd get some traction, make some headway, get someplace.
it's gray, warmer than it's been, car finally functioning again, and of course while it makes life easier, it doesn't lift the heavy melancholy of february and understimulation. trying to find meaning in color, started a bright scarf for mIEKAL, and making nice "headway" on my x-stitch "text, textile, exile" but while it's soothing to do it also means i'm not doing the other things...writing this !@#$#@! introduction to this book, the same introduction i've been trying to write for 10 years, here let me introduce you to my book, it's shy but rewarding to spend time with, its name is Bagel Shop Jazz: Poetics for a Post-Literary "America" and it's been leading a reclusive, elusive existence for about 10 years, making occasional appearances piecemeal in this journal or that, possibly you've seen part of it in this edited anthology or that, like i say in its totality its a shy beastie. well this intro will get done, you all out there in cyberspace are my witnesses. it's like, what to wear for an important occasion? just throw something on. just to get out the door.


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