Well, it’s been awhile. As per usual I make lots of big promises to myself to blog as often as possible and then find myself, for example, swooning over netflix reruns of Downton Abbey and procrastinating on knitting projects.
Cynically, I decided to spurn all new year’s resolutions this year, thinking that if I didn’t make the promises to myself they couldn’t be broken. However, in spite of far too many hours spent playing video games in 2013, I’ve also realized that I am capable of cleaning the apartment, maintaining something that can be truly labeled organization and not merely a semblance of, and playing things besides video games (such as AGRICOLA, the best boardgame and Christmas present a person could ask for). I am unemployed. I have plenty of time. I can keep one promise.
So, dear readers, please help me maintain this one little resolution: a heart-crossed pledge to write. A motion to write in many many motions, from the relatively flat typing that turns my hands to leaping spiders, to the mad scribbles in the moleskine, to the soon-to-come pattering of a typewriter (currently being resurrected in a wonderful Cambridge shop).
I am encouraged to write by many things, but especially by some friends of mine who have recently published books – Carrot Quinn’s Ten Thousand Miles by Freight Train, Erin Therrien’s Wild Dyes:Natural Dyeing in Wisconsin and the Upper Midwest, and Lisa Taylor’s upcoming collection of poems, Necessary Silence. It is good to have the work of these people reminding me that it is good to do something whilst sitting besides wasting time.
I am also inspired by the upsurge of ecological scenes unfolding before me both here and in my native Milwaukee, where I stayed for ten days during the turn of the year.
Some of these scenes yanking at my writerly desire are charming, like the fox that I saw running through the night beside the kite shop at Bradford Beach. Others are bizarre, such as reports of turkeys chasing down the residents of Brookline (a suburb sidled up beside Boston), and still more are blissfully unsettling, like the Reggaeton and air, 60 degrees at least, that is sighing through my open windows in this, the middle of January.
But, reader. A list is only a list. I am staring at myself and demanding more. If I seem to need nagging you may nag at me, and I ask you do so. In return you get to ask me for things. Tell me what you’d like to read about, what you’d like me to learn and investigate. If you are bored or brightened by this blog tell me, and I’ll do what I can to make it better. I’ll write, anyway, at least once every two weeks. I think that I made this promise in October but now I’m in the universe of the unemployed, leaving me hours and days and weeks to devote to sentences here and in my much greater work that I’m hoping to publish sooner than later. There will be bits of pieces of it here as time goes by, and any feedback about it will always be welcome.
Anyway, here’s a belated mason jar of champagne raised to a new year. I’ll keep my promises and hope you’ll keep coming back for more.