Monday, April 10, 2017

This and That --Monday April 10, 2017


Julie Ali
 feeling sleepy.
Just now
It is sprinkling outside. I have taken a day off today and done nothing. Doing nothing is a big task in itself.
I did nothing yesterday as well.
I asked the library to do the book gathering for me as I want to read books in between preparing for the Good Samaritan Society lawsuit.
I went for my morning walk in the fuzzy weather and the geese were obnoxious -they seem to think they own the world. I saw two of them by the side of the park ready to ambush me but when I went by they were beady eyed and their necks were snake like in their contortions. I avoid geese.When I got back from the walk I did more laundry. Even with older boy gone on his apprenticeship there was just no reduction in laundry services I provide to the family.
I even got rid of a pile of clothes by simply handing them to Goodwill on 51 st Avenue where I donate all our stuff and yet there was no reduction in piles of clothes to be washed. It may just be that folks in the family just rotate the remaining clothes faster.
Supper is going to be something simple like hamburgers.
 After supper I was thinking of going to the Riverbend Library and just doing the reading there. It is my favourite place in the world next to the small forest trail by my house. I'm not big on travel and tend to be a home body.
I have told Rebecca I will bring her home on Saturday and Sunday for her art regeneration of the brain project. It's important to be consistent with mental stimulation or the work won't get any results. My mum may start to come over again to the house as dad is working and mum is lonely by herself. Sometimes I feel like an e-mail with lots of attachments.
Where was I? I am very sleepy. I will go and write poetry on the blog today as I feel that misty moisty days are meant for poem writing. Then when the brain is mush I will go to the library to get the books I requested.
Most of the books are by writers I wish to become.
It's a problem when there are so many writers I wish to become.
Becoming a poet requires the sort of apprenticeship given to soldiers in an unending war--read up on everything and break language into new and novel forms. It's like being a plasmid and transforming cells. It's like a rain storm in a desert turning the sand to life; it's like a painter building out of his own brain and soul the figures of metaphor and symbol. Its like being magical with the blue bird of a poem originating inside you to fly out to the world.

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