- I don’t have a word for these things I made, I don’t make them anymore, I found them rummaging the archives of another dead blog for typed words
- When I made the self-portraits that I quit making a year ago I had already stopped writing or typing word on the thing I had made then quit making self-portraits three or four years later
- I quit writing or typing on made things when the made thing became more important to me than the written or typed thing, I quit making self-portraits when I liked making self-portraits more than writing or typing and quit writing when I liked typing more than writing so I don’t need daily decipher yesterday’s scribble
- My second time through Joy Williams’ *Harrow,* dig this sentence: “The land was bright with raging fires ringed with sportsman shooting the crazed creatures trying to escape the flames”
- I believe I can bat away this uh-oh a toothache coming familiar remembering twinge laugh
- Spinning the fuck-it compost bin, fat tubes of primary colors in a shoebox in my desk
- If I make things again I permit myself to write again and not necessarily just making *then* writing
- I always spiral in and out but need just once not spiral up as I spiraled down
2022 May 1
Published
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