Is it not a good environment for creativity because I have become desensitized to make noises like guitars fighting any longer, the ideal personality is warped with this, a beeping backing up truck. the excess of the space, too much space, the constant distraction, I know the coffee is ready, the rhythm of the electronic beeps growing louder and cutting out suddenly like an accidental electric surge tto galvanize a computer, making in sentient for a few moments, without full awareness, it is a surfacing and an immediate diving.
Also the sheer size and boarded up windows.
Late evening coffee shakes, the jittering mind of a raving whiskey driven lunatic, in the throes of a lonely evening split between coffee and beer and finale in the rain, singing and dancing with fun circular moves, the 5 mile walk impossible to fathom for so many others, gorgeous ballroom dresses swaying out the windows of those dorms, blocked out courage, many lights on all night to study study study, everything.
Me, it is words. The words of others. The attempt to write with clarity about the words of others, to analyze patterns and trends, to let the professors know what kinds of things churned around in my mind as I read the poems, books, and novellas.
Back in school for this but the free write mind set lapsed and I feel silly typing it with much ferocity when compared to my new ink pen and blank white notebook pages. 41 pages in two weeks hand written. Eagerness to continue with my observed world in there because this screen seems sterile. Although the morning freeze frame writes are good to wake up the mind like a jog of tangled association to achieve a clear minded valley road with only one direction to go, the green hills and barbed wire fences of africa, the greasy grimy gopher guts, making meals out of scraps and land fill, revolve the windowside pool view and feel content with the silences between the words when they do not come. This is time to soak in that silence and use it for future well time empty space.
