Tundra Time

icebike

Yes, we are February all the way; Chicago is frozen tundra, ice solidly crusted over all the piled-up dirty grey snow, rutted frozen tire tracks to negotiate at each end of every block I walk on the way to the el, the parts of the streets where the people stopped clearing the sidewalks, and the snowplows didn’t reach; and cold, cold, cold.  My part of the planet is in total hibernation, and I feel for whoever owns this bike.  It’s locked in to the winter like the rest of us.

I’ve begun writing some tales from the past, and have quickly discovered that doing that involves Writing A Story, which is infinitely slower than shooting off my keyboard in a blog, writing my streams-of-alleged-consciousness from the now.  If I don’t get so impatient at my own pace that I lose interest, I’ll publish the first finished one, assuming that happens.  But, really, winter or not, to stay sane during all that’s going on, I need activities away from the keyboard.  This is especially true now that the semester’s in full, ludicrous swing and the daily amount of e-mail and other written work is stupendous.

And so,  I’ve actually been smart.  I got enough concentrated work done during break that I can and have been working on the final copies of SEdition in tiny increments every day.  Even if it’s just a half-hour; it’s a half-hour that’s productive and peaceful and mine.  And, after having my “studio day” eaten up last week, as it was all last semester, I am now determined that will not happen again. Studio day is now and forevermore sacrosanct, inviolable. I own it.  With that to center me, and the next one to look forward to, I can survive any amount of insanity, and believe me, insanity and frozen tundra is pretty much what’s out there right now.

lastosedition

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6 thoughts on “Tundra Time

  1. Yes! That would be fantastic. No more giving up studio day.

    The bike reminds me of a woman I met in VT who said she finally had it, living in MN, when snow was plowed all onto her car, which then froze to the ground and couldn’t move until the spring. She then moved to NYC.

  2. And this our life, exempt from public haunt, / Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, / Sermons in stones, and good in everything. -William Shakespeare, playwright and poet (1564-1616)

    Thought of you when I ran across this quote, shortly after you blogged about getting out into the wild and why. Also the concept of tongues in trees I suppose …

  3. Thanks, all…Smith, you know you are truly tempting the universe. You know that; now, if Cleveland gets a big pile o’ snow and ice in March, everyone can blame you.

    Aimee, I checked out yr photos today…wow. Wow. Wow.

    Martin, the quote is just beautiful, and beautifully timed for me as well. Thank you, old fiend.

  4. That’s supposed to be “thank you, old friend”! However, for damn near all of my old friends, and myself, “old fiend” works just as well at certain times. Laughing at my truthtelling keyboard….

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