The Good Word of Sprout

Location: Chicago, Illinois, United States

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Why I write and why I need you

It's your interest in my writing and your belief in my ability that keeps the inadequacies from swarming, those angry bees whose sting leads to sudden anger. I'm needy sometimes. I can admit that. But I can also pounce upon and devour small prey. I'm a cat. Give me a can of tuna or I will annoy you. I will trip you.

I draw from a reservoir of warm feeling. I fill myself with it. I bathe myself with my tongue, tongue meaning language (if only it didn't, if only through yoga). This enables me to balance base honesty (killing a rat) with a pleasant full life (playing with the rat carcass). It's love. I purr.

I've planted by hand a crop of ideas. They're my nip. I water them every morning because they are thirsty. We will see what flowers bloom and if they smell nice, and if they have psychoactive properties, and if I end up on the floor, hands in the air, giggling. That's what I write for.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Post Revisited (11/09) - On buying drywall screws

The hardware store has a distinct lovely smell. Each aisle contains the potential of labor, the potential accomplishment of building or repairing, of cleaning or lighting or moving electricity from one place to another, hopefully avoiding the body as conductor or conduit and the taste of pennies. There is metal and wood and rubber and plastic. There is paint and paint thinner and solvents and solutions to any problem with a practical solution.

I wander, not knowing anything, imagining chain jewelry and chain weapons measured from spools, hats made of orange funnels, music in a drill bit, laughter from a ball cock. With knowledge and the right tools, any wish can be granted. In a hardware store, a man becomes a child, and a child with the right knowledge becomes a man, small but vast, knowing the absurd humor of any man who describes with his hands that he wants a pipe cut "this long."