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WEAKENDED
Friday Jan. 27, 2012
When muse shows up, its direction is neither predictable or controllable when inclinations are not suitable for publication, like breaking wind in a grocery story aisle – it seems OK at the time, but only if nobody is there.
Reading old bits, helps, sometimes, takes me back; pondering whether creativity can be forced.
And, when it is, is it then deserving of being labeled creative?
Caffeine fortification notwithstanding, inspiration arrives on its own time-table. I’d like an hour or two, just sipping coffee, staring out a window, letting morning, or the whole day for that matter, envelope me. No time for that.
Sometimes it shows up on time, or early (but why 3AM?).
Some days it fails to arrive till noon, but I have this self-imposed deadline (met most days) to have this published/posted and archived by 9AM which I’ve missed today.
Editing/restricting/filtering comes into play. Part of that, I tell myself, is simply refining and redefining my craft, to clearly make my case in a way which neither embarrasses me or anyone else – unless, of course, I am trashing someone who richly deserves it. Writing for self, or a crowd, No different. Someone will read it. Discretion is wise. Not always, but mostly.
But an audience of only one, changes everything.
Today is first day of 3-day self-exile grind.
Projects and accounting need my time. I won’t hide out, but have no plans for socializing. Too much work and sleep required between sessions to plan outings or play-time. Maybe a run or two, a dog walk or two. Maybe up to the big parkt (off-leash) at Nose Hill … but mostly I’ll stick to these projects that cry out “get me off this floor, finish with me and take everything you can, squeeze me till nothing is left, then put me to rest”.
So, what to write about today???
I had a disturbing dream.
Not ready to write about it yet … if ever.
Starting my brain, or this column, presents an inspiration challenge to find a synapse that starts the flow . . .
As reader, not writer, I want things that make me think – or laugh, smile or engage my think-muscles. Sure, that’s it, if I want a snippet. But what do I want, or crave, or return to? Ideas . Or points of view that stretch my thinking into new shapes.
Like absentmindedly walking in a storm, stiff wet breeze whipping my face, my mind sits vacant, fingers fall silent . . . and self-as-s-kicking doesn’t help.
What makes your creative juice flow?
What sparks creativity, what leaps out to require statements to be made or words to be writ – like a Jackson Pollock spraying/spewing his mind on a wall or floor – to be viewed or read as evidence perhaps, of how perplexing life can be.
Or how simple.
Mark Kolke
306,308
P.S.: yesterday’s purge target was 2 neck ties – produced better results: 6 old neck ties, 3 belts and sport jacket. Load is lighter today. I’ll shed something.
column written/ published from Calgary: morning walk: -10 C/ 13 F, overcast, steady breeze, Gusta met a young Doberman who, like Gusta, did not full appreciate what a leash-entanglement can mean . . . but they had fun for a short time to the chagrin of their owners who barely had the time to graciously say hello.
Comments Received:
MAYBE TWO
I think reducing your clutter, focusing on what’s important, what is needed; work wise, home wise, relationship wise (not necessarily with women but with co-workers, friends, and family) will help bring you to an emotional focus as well. I still have about 30 boxes of ‘stuff’ from my first marriage that I need to go thru…emotional attachment needing to be put aside. Fancy dishes to be sold? Heirlooms given to children. The rest just given away. It’s hard to find the strength and the time to do this, but it does need to be done. Maybe the closure would be worth the effort. I know I am in a better relationship, a better time in my life…time to cut the old, lingering ties. I wish you a wonderful Spring, full of interesting dates and maybe the ONE! SR, Calgary
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