3-3-02
Circumstances converge that compel me toward ponderous inaction.
I fight off this attitude and search for ideas from my past to counter it.
Old notes, long set aside, prompt me to recover buried feelings.
"I don't want to work at a repetitive job. I can do a different thing
every day, I can express my changing basic nature every day."
I have worn myself into a daily ritual, a rut I try to climb out of.
Unconsciously, I struggle to remain productive, doing, lists of tasks.
I predetermine my essential sense of accomplishment and purpose.
I play with fire, trying to use up old paper stored for a year or more.
The woodstove roars, but briefly, only until the paper turns to ash.
I'm almost out of wood, and so conserve it, gleaning heat from paper.
I could burn up old notes too, if only I could process info fast enough.
Fire slows as sap crystallizes in the wood, awaiting warmer weather.