Tripled blankets, a field of cotton and lacey petroleum products. A fox barks but paces in the darkness. Not a shadow obstructs the street light.
Well, this is basically my first attempt writing of a poem in … however long–maybe six or seven years. Even silly comments elsewhere on the web and irl take me a long time to construct these days, but this is just me dolling up loneliness, and ultimately I wanted to express that some of it was my fault, but ehhh.
It would be sooner if I could write anything pretty for you, but these days I write very little. For another thing, I find instructional material works better in video form, so what I once wrote down now goes into videos even though they take more work than writing descriptions and snapping a few pictures. Creating videos, however garbage-y, and working on the podcast with Walker spawned my interest in working with audio and music software, so I do some of that in addition to improving my singing. I sold a hat this year but obviously would like to sell way more, and I also started milling logs with a hand saw so that I might craft some furniture in the future once the boards dry. However, I still do not feel good. Being doped up helps me to do the aforementioned things, but it does not make them feel any more valuable. Bad thoughts still play in the background, and I rely more now on video and noise to feel less alone and drown out extraneous “brainstorming.” Sorry that I haven’t been reading anything here. There’s just something about it that often makes me sad, and what good am I to you if that is always where it goes?
Yesterday while hiking in the woods I decided to check on the partial bamboo kayak I left out there probably over a month ago now. It’s gone for whatever reason. I started taking adderol but have not managed to focus on anything useful. Add to that lots of caffeine and I still feel like dead weight.
Oh, and in the spirit of blograderie, Earthy Oddball nominated me for a Liebster or however that’s spelled, so check out her blog.
More from Walker and me!
This time we talk about … stuff? Listen to And Stuff E08: Fast Paste Environment on Overcast. andstuffpodcast@gmail.com @andstuffpodcast on twitter soyeahandstuff.podbean.com
Last year I set a goal to sell one thing (that I made, more specifically) and I didn’t do it. The good thing, anyway, is that despite failing I am not out on the streets. Most people can’t totally fail and still live comfortably.
I started looking into intentional communities again just for a boost of energy. In general communities ask less than it would cost to rent an apartment or even a room. The cheapest I can find on rent just about anywhere is ~$300 a month, so $3600 a year, and, well, I don’t want to live with my parents forever, so at least there is a middle ground in communities or work exchanges. But of course it all starts with making some frigging money and I’d like to do it my own way.
I’ve also started looking out for antlers for my own crafts or to sell. A bundle of ten or more looks to go for $10 a piece or so, so not bad. Searching also gives me reason to walk around a few unfamiliar areas and get some exercise since I don’t feel much like jogging lately.
I’ve also sunk back into depression, doing all this rather slow. Oh, but what else is new.
A person can acquire a good quality used suit for a reasonable price, and while they provide some tailoring practice I should stop at this point and focus on creating.
Lazily assembled clips to show how I make holly/pine needle tea.
I have done a few things lately but have not felt like writing about them or uploading pictures. A few antler buttons, a hat prototype. I sank into deep depression for maybe a month and didn’t gain any ground. For a while now I’ve considered moving more toward videos to express my ideas. Video just captures some things better in my opinion than text and a few pictures. But of course I actually have to DO something worth filming.
I heard about a poet who just spotted a woman and professed his love for her. Not in a real way, no: through a poem. Think of how much he fancied over the years that did not really exist. The lost one he never knew. The pure speculation that inspired so many of the words that some of us now take to heart. I’ve succumbed to world building too. Most bright places are not mine. They are attempts to fool the brain and left for others to speculate, if anyone ever speculated on my words. But I don’t doubt my loves. Oh sure, there’s a fear to admit them, to say anything on it, but those are real. They’re not the foolish errand of a poet trying to create a few lines to fulfill the artistic mind. I believe them with some sense of reason.
TheCuriousBum 