sublimation

sometimes, it's just the act of being at work that keeps me moving. i started swinging away at it round nine or ten this morning. maybe it's the inner nick adams, a need for working with my hands--a clear and disarmed headspace. . . I am organizing my work area and reorganizing. In a lot of ways it's like pre-rinsing tomorrow's dirty dishes. . .

i think i also like the remote location of the office. it's friday night and i am the only person in the entire building, had to be let in actually. . . there used to be ghost stories involving this place. . . well, it's just me and the ghosts tonight, then . . . hope they like hazelnut coffee. i think i'm actually going to finally go home for a little while, i've had a couple offers for a free drink or two. might take some of those offers seriously.

i can't get solomon burke out of my head today, or otis redding, or john coltrane and johnny hartman: perhaps they are the ghosts, well least the traces of recent vintage. . . more of a sensory spirit resemebling the lighted mountainside profile of a small town dying to be a city in a car dreaming of its own wings. . .

more later

evening soundtrack: elvis costello and burt bacarach painted from memory; percy sledge when a man loves a woman; solomon burke don't give up on me; thelonious monk monk's blues