Saturday, January 26, 2013

The Present: 01.26.13

The Present: 01.26.13

It's quite cold this morning, but the sky is a clear blue and the sun is shining. I have been pondering new blog projects, but haven't stumbled upon anything I am ready to commit to yet.

One idea as to create an imaginary archive or library. This could be an interesting idea, but I am not sure what it means. Would it be a list of books I'd like to own? Would it be a list of books that I think others should own? Would the archive have some specific or esoteric purpose? Could it be completely random? And what would I write about each day? New acquisitions? Highlights of the collection? Definitely some potential there, but it needs some more cooking.

Another idea I have had for a long time would be called something like "My Anthology." Each day I would select a poem that I would include in an anthology that best represented my ideas and feelings about poetry. I could select anything I wanted, the only qualification being that the poem be significant to me. I worry that the writing would end up being a kind of argument for inclusion in someone else's anthology. So that would have to be the first rule. No argumentation. So what would I write about each poem? Something about its significance to me -- perhaps another form of autobiography? Would this veer too closely to Aimless Reading? Or could it be a kind of extension? Hmmm...

I also thought about taking photos of the same tree in the back yard every morning. I take the dog out each day and stand around beside a lovely old cherry tree in our back yard while I wait for her to take care of business. I have taken a few photos of the tree, which have been relatively well "liked" on FB. But that seems more like a photo project, and I am not a photographer. What would I write about the same tree every day? Well, it would certainly be a challenge.

Maybe I could have multiple projects going at once. I could have My Anthology as one and The Imaginary Archive as another. I've always wanted to do something about entropy. Harder to do here than it would have been in Buffalo. Again, what would I write about? Maybe it's time to write a novel. I doubt I have the patience and persistence for that, though I have discovered a love for fiction in the past few years.

It will come to me. I am sure of it.

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