PAPER, LOGS, LETTERS (# 74,958)

Today I wrote. For 5 hours I wrote. Then I chopped firewood. The logs and the page are sisters. Two acts united by material and method. My typing is forceful and my axing gentle. My bicep aches from the toughness of the log and my forearms ache from the awkwardness of the keys. Nature and man both making things difficult, but i wouldn’t want it any other way.

The wood now sits in piles, categorized according to its width. The words now sit in space, awaiting a reaction from the commissioner. The physical and mental have merged, as have the 2nd and 3rd dimensions.

I have no idea what these parallel worlds mean, but next time you need to compose a letter, go fell a tree.

September 18, 2009
Filed Under Writing on writing 

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