Oversion

July 27, 2011

Skies Of A Tuesday Late in July

Filed under: Uncategorized — oversion @ 3:50 am

It’s fun to view these photos as an image of my workday. The temporal sequence at least.

Starting in the morning at the bus stop, the fabulous gulch, always with a new and interesting visage.

Then the signatured moment in time of seeing the clouds’ having a meeting just north of here. North east.

And then they came, closed overtop us at work. It was interesting.


All in all it was a spectacular day, despite the filling nearly all remaining time with workday. Oh my back. Tiring. But all good on the whole. A Tuesday Late In July.

I like doing basic real work at my job, as a relief from the kind of work that often has anti-arts funding people arguing about whether it be funded. Such a stressful life, the arts world, a life in literature is like 13 unpaid jobs and 1 and a half sometimes paid ones. Must tame the system! The despair of rejected grant applications is absolutely the great joyful absence from my nervous system in this era, thanks to just the good old fashioned labour job. Exciting! Novel. Keeps me out and about. And includes excercize. So many of my artist musician and writer friends would be so glad of such a job, but they don’t know. A breath of fresh air from worrying all the time. The semi-funded arts. Sure keep us on our toes. What other job can you do all this work and send it in and hear back “$0.00. That is what we are offering,” to the majority of writers’ grants and submissions. A stressful, economically cornered circumsta

nce. And cities are so expensive. Everywhere is though.

At least with the warehouse job, I get excercize, see the world, live at one with all Being, and get paid predictably, structurally, for the work I do.

The world itself is art. I am grateful to it, the presence of the world and art.

At the same time, if it causes me to articulate my opinions just a bit stringently at times, please don’t take it personally. The crossbow of my shoulders from all the heaving things and all the typing, two distinctive modes of activity, tightens the Duncanian Jeffers typing style. Art and dreams leak out of everyone. But what ghost knocks on the wall if I start to drift back to sleep while snoozebuttoning? Dreams and their interpretations. Whoever it is knows I’d be happier getting up already, and that one shouldn’t sit with one’s back to the entrance. With whom I share these cloud photos. Our cousins the clouds

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