Open windows

[smokingboot]

bring the people of the wind into the house, rushing through and banging all the doors with mischievous intent. It also brings the delight of waking up to the roar of lawn mowers and the smell of just cut grass. It was the scent, not the sound, that woke me up. Delicious.

This project is much better for me letting go of it. Sometimes I grab ideas/thoughts so tightly it feels like the problems have grafted themselves onto my head. Because I don't know I'm doing it in the first place, letting go is a complete bastard. Besides, have you noticed, dear LJ, that everyone talks about letting go, and no-one tells you how to do it? What I think they actually mean is, 'Turn your thoughts elsewhere, find something else to occupy your mind, and this will fade in importance. Don't keep checking it to see if it has gone or stayed...' Or in shortspeak,'For god's sake, think about something else!' Because the immediate answer is of course, 'If I could I would!' Herein lies the great curative power of work/creativity/heavy partying.

Last night, for the first time in a long time, I worked at something I found meaningful outside my writing. I used the craft for a friend. What chum does with the stuff learned is down to her, but it felt good and strong.

I feel alive this morning.

Comments

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

Music kind of whacks me out first thing,especially if I'm trying to get anything written. I'm a bit impossible under those circumstances (no sound, no company, snarling at the phone if it rings) Music gets a stronger(and gentler) response from me as the night draws on.