A student came into the yarn shop yesterday looking for materials; a project with the prompt "nesting." Today I woke up with an inspired list of things that could improve my living, including closet rearrangement and accumulating just one more bookcase. After dropping off another load of items at the thrift store donation center, I browsed for homeware. My errands closed and I went home to block some projects I had begun/finished. I submerged them and lined them out to dry, my rug a disappointing conical shape. I dreamt new forms for it to take, perhaps I rip it out or shape it into a pillow—both still round, domestic ideas.
I spend all of my energy on building a home. Keeping my apartment clean, accumulating a surrogate family, claiming a gas station, grocery store and route to work. I can trace this mode all the way back into July, when I attended Mildred's Lane. All along I thought I was meant to study knitting and its construction. Study the history of software in contemporary media today. Pull these ideas together with everything I've read about folds and the electromagnetic spectrum, a stake-out while I want to fly back "home."
The funny thing.