I think I’ve found my writing spot and it’s at my hand-me-down desk with my speakers on and legs half bent to my chest. I’ve been eyeing out the coffee shop a couple streets down, so maybe that too will be another writing haunt, at the price of a 4 dollar watery beverage (but exchangeable for Broadway Ave people watching).
This week was a whirlwind. Visitors came and went, work sick days were taken, and well, that’s really all that occurred, but it zapped the energy out of me. I familiarized myself with more of my current city, staking out spots at the boat dock (at the roots of bridges) and at peaks of latent volcanoes. I finally feel oriented in Portland. It’s a shame to leave it so soon, even though a return residency is inevitable.
Anyway. I’ve realized that in spite of my increased ease with solitude, I haven’t fully embraced the idea of being alone and being still. Still. When was the last time I sat and did absolutely nothing? I’ve been making an effort to meditate, even though my body and mind seem to plead for more exciting alternatives. I’ve been compromising by meditating for ten minutes at a time, with hope for lengthier sessions in the future. Here’s to hoping.
Agenda for today:
Listen to music.
Meditate.
Write.
Make headway in Guns, Germs, and Steel
Read a Lorrie Moore story
Work on my canvas of travel maps and ticket subs
Possibly possibly run (aka walk)
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