thoughts, insights, perhaps in the style of woolfe.

there is only so much time in the day, i work architecture for the paycheck. clay is the new obsession, it seems. other things have been before. i throw everything at it - all my time, all my thought, all my energy. i want all of it, all knowledge, all depth, all breadth. i dream about it, and my spare thoughts go there while i am elsewhere. i've had flings - with one person or another, with one interest or another - where that becomes my primary object of interest. everything else becomes an aside, becomes less important than my current object of desire. but to what end? i seek fulfillment, but at some level of intimacy with any object i find that it, too, in the end, is empty.

i am unsteady. i immerse myself in emptiness. nothing else exists. i am dead.

i seek to experience, to experience everything. i love the cool night air and waves crashing and stars overhead, curl of smoke, the sweetness of cloves on my lips. i love lazy mornings, sun filtering in, breeze caressing my face and i slowly awaken. i exist in the moment of existence; the last moment is already gone, i am only in the present, the next moment does not exist. i follow my whims, i touch, i laugh, i explore. i am impish, a trouble-maker, i seek to surprise people and make them laugh. i laugh in surprise, myself. pain is only a sensation, a sudden twinge brings a gasp before a smile. it makes me feel alive. clouds move swiftly across the sky, invisible breeze; time passes quickly and i wait for salvation, awaken the dawn, haunt the night with my searching. and the answer is immediate, closer than my skin, infinite as the sky, it is this, there is no more, and this is enough.

then the moment passes and i am searching again.

Tonight

Tonight I went and had a smoke by the lake,
absorbed myself in the sound of the waves -
easterly breeze bringing them in one after the next over the sandbar -
looked at the stars,
and felt a little better.



On the 16th I fired my August kiln. Rough firing for me and for the kiln. But I'm not displeased with the results. Photo below is the work I had in.


This is what I do. This is what I love.

The awe of being alive.

When did you last experience it?

Oh yes, I did.

Write a condition assessment on a cookie. And it was amusing enough that I share it here for your amusement.

Sample size: approx 4" dia, 1/4-3/8" tall.
Color: dark brown.

Shape is a roundish form typical of a partially fluxed irregularly shaped ball of material. One edge is compressed slightly, possible evidence of spatular removal from cooking surface. Edges are slightly crisp and pleasantly chewy. Interior is softer, with chocolate chips. Moisture content is such that the cookie breaks apart easily in to large pieces with few small crumbs. Spanning capabilities are poor; the cookie requires edge and center support to avoid deflection to failure. Stiffened edge contributes structural stability. Chocolate chip distribution is moderate, approx. (1) chip per square inch. Flavor is full, rich, dark, sweet. Sample is slightly oily to the touch, most noticed after prolonged contact.

Recommended for consumption with peppermint tea.

One approach.

What does one do when in crisis? Find some conversation that tends to circle around the heart of things, in hope of shedding some light on universal truth, and letting that work its way into the particulars of whatever question has been laid aside, waiting for understanding to develop. At least that's my take on it.

Excerpt: School of the Obvious

"Touch is a healing thing," he said. Maybe his arm was still around my shoulders. I forget. "You don't want to touch, you don't want to heal." We were discussing something entirely different at an hour entirely too late when my phone rang.

It takes a lot of love these days.