long over dude

At the end of last month, and without my noticing it, the first stage of this project came to a close. The daily entries, 4-6 a week, and the tendency towards the long investigation, rant, musing, and the conflation (possibly conflageration) of the personal and public were all part of my original aim to explore this new form and practice my prose. All at the office, to boot ("Writer Paid To Write, At Last, Although Boss Doesn't Know")

For the first month it was a new love. Every new comment was a victory and the daily blogs felt daring, necessary. Then, after a spell, it became another daily practice, up and down, sometimes inspired, sometimes bored, but, like zazen, i sat and faced the screen for at least 5 minutes : more often 20, 25, 42. The typing grew so loud it rattled one of my coworkers. Focus came and went. Some of the readers stayed. That was a deeply heartening experience.

But after awhile, finding the time to blog became an issue. And then the questions of focus, in this unrelaxed atmosphere of a corporate T.A.Z., became pressing. I became more deeply uncomfortable with what I was typing, and let go. And I forgot to note that, though there's a small, aging post-it from around the 1st of Sept. in my head reminding me to do so.

I can feel the shift, but I'm not sure what the next form is. But it will press up against that other limit in my work - a sense of direction, or lack therof. Its nice to get lost, and to drift, and its also nice to have a sense of where to, and how, and that its happening. So time to work this later aspect. I could continue to do what I'm doing now til the end of time, but my heart would not be in it.

If you haven't been over to One Less in a while, tardy and surprising poets of the blogosphere, check in: deadline's coming up tomorrow.