Perhaps no one will read this post for days. After all, only an occasional visitor happens by this outpost. Perhaps it will lie unread forever in the dustless bin of the blogosphere. Nevertheless I need to tell you, my hypothetical future honored guest, that today I am cleaning my office.
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| World to world |
I admit that blogging is part of my deeply rooted pattern of work avoidance but, don't worry. I am exploiting that weakness. Being a recovering Catholic, by divulging my plans, even to a stranger, I'm intentionally triggering my Confession Reflex. The way it works is that once I confess something, I am emotionally obliged to mend my ways.
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| Hypothetical future honored guest |
Otherwise, I torture myself. Naturally, every time I use this technique I run the risk of a tedious and draining round of the dreaded
Catholic Guilt so I always weight the worthiness of my goal against the ever-pending backlash of failure. In this case, it's worth it. My tiny office is bulging with stuff, junk, litter and clutter.
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| True north |
I've made progress against it but now I'm taking on the Wall of Final
Resistance. From here on, I'm fist to fist with my personal demons. I
will spare you the details. Today I get rid of some of the books. I know.
Shocking! After all, isn't a writer
supposed to be surrounded by books? Aren't books the
true north
of the writing life? But they're going. Some of them. Ash Canyon has a
poetry library so I'm "loaning" some of my poetry books to it, though I have a feeling I'll never get them back.
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| Goldie |
And I'll give them the book shelf.
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