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24 March 2014 @ 12:39 am
an intention of journals  
it's the term i may as well use to refer to the shelf stuffed with blank books on the east side of the study. an intention of journals. journals of all shapes and sizes, styles and bindings; with blank pages, lined pages, with earthy artisan grained pages stacking in deckled edges. wednesday morning sitting up in bed i started a list of projects i've been intending to dedicate a blank book to and really, i could either have a fecund continuum for ideas to flow or i could have an unchecked mess of paper everywhere (as opposed to the current situation, wherein i have an unchecked mess of papers quarantined to file boxes, plastic bins, the work table, an old shoe box under the orange theosophist chair and, also, a drawer.

i always figured you probably weren't exactly a hoarder if you only maintained unreasonable collections in a few, very specific generas? but then i took an account of my unreasonable collections: paper, crystals, candles, books, music media, incense, tea, herbs, white gel pens and, uh, possibly mugs, and i begin to doubt my station on the good side of the hoarding tracks. i save all the books, i save most of the papers. bills and invoices, eobs, diagnoses, letters from friends i haven't spoken to in years, seven word scribbles written on a fragment of a special orders report from 2002. have you ever found a phone number scribbled in the margin of a notebook from twenty years ago--no associated name, just the number--chicago area code, elgin exchange, and then? i've thought about calling, but, then, i probably wouldn't reach the person i intended in 1994.

maybe i'd find the person i was supposed to reach, instead?