clean

I didn’t do a lot by way of proper creativity yesterday as I felt the strong desire to RAGE CLEAN. I didn’t even cook dinner. Nope. No sirree. It was a beer and take-away pizza and RAGE CLEANING night with the RAGE compounded by being angry at myself for having lost my bank card (I found it again, but it kind of threw me off all day), angry at the state of non-focus I was in as the result of losing my bank card, then the unwanted presence of a neighbourhood creep who decided to invite himself onto my porch and tell us about how he hit his wife and she hit him back and how he ran into the ‘biatch’ who called the cops on him AND GET OFF MY LAWN, MOTHERFUCKER!

Rage cleaning was necessary.

It’s hard right now to get into a rage cleaning space as I feel that I’m turning my back on all of the beings in my home when I hole up in my bedroom (the room I wanted to rage clean). My problem. My ridiculously, irrational problem given they’re all pretty self-entertaining, self-sufficient beings.

So I eventually got to it and, as I was cleaning and raging, thought “this IS creative. This is my space and I need it clean and to feel good in it and it’ll always be chaotic, but I’m making it MY kind of chaotic. So there. Take that, little nay-sayers in my brain.”

And then I wrote a dark little haiku because, even though I felt better about having cleaned my room, I was still in a slightly dark little space as the result of non-rage cleaning stuff:

And yesterday was world poetry. So take that, little nay-sayers in my brain.

Today, this is speaking for me.

So is this.

Weird that two such poignantly relatable reads came to me today.

Hopefully more tonight, kittens. AFTER more room cleaning and AFTER producing something I’ve been thinking about for a while. And also possibly AFTER I attend a punk tribute to Leonard Cohen.

xoxo,

m

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