Thursday, April 18, 2019

A note of little importance, except possibly to other writers/artists of various sorts/hobbyists. I've been noodling an observation, or maybe it's just a brain fart; ok, possibly it's self-justification. One does what one can with what one has, after all.

Any rate, what occurred to me was that art, writing, hobby, playing in the garden, meditating, staring out at the auburn sky, all the things to do that don't have anything to do with the job. Or the chores. Or the bills. Or, really, anything that someone else wants you to do, rather than the thing that quiets the noise and allows for a breather.

All that stuff? It's a defense against the needle-scratch moments. Those little parts of the day where you read something, hear something, see something that makes your brain scratch out of the track it's on. All those little moments that make you go "What in the hell did I just hear? They can't really have just said that, right?"

And I don't mean any particular thing political, animal, or vegetable. Criminal, psychological or meteorological. But I do mean that we all have those elements trip us up.

And then we get to go home. Fire up the laptop, or break out the pencil and paper, or wander out for a walk with the dogs. Or whatever. And spend some brief moment of our day.

Not thinking about anything that matters to anyone else in the world, for some blessed few minutes.

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Please keep it on the sane side. There are an awful lot of places on the internet for discussions of politics, money, sex, religion, etc. etc. et bloody cetera. In this time and place, let us talk about something else, and politely, please.