Weird mood lately...Chel's in hidey-neutral-mellow mode today. Bored, detached, unmoved, resenting the blah non-adventure uninspiredness of the world around her...

There are days when I want so much new, something new, shiny, moving, transcendent, fly-away, breathtaken, beholden, cherishable...something feet-sweeping. And it doesn't come, and doesn't come, and I melt and distill in the bottom of this shell...I feel like writing, and it comes, but it feels same-old. It feels second-hand. It feels...not so fresh...

How do we find the things we never know we've lost? I asked my friend that yesterday, and he wrote a poem in response:

the things we don't know that we've lost
you find them with sincerity, gravity, benevolence
they wait outside security, forethought and malevolence
they present themselves
from diving delves
and steal away to waiting empty shelves
you find them without knowing

...you find them without knowing...How do you find the place/time/space/emotion where you don't know? I could walk that in circles for a month of Sundays...

It got me thinking... ... ... and I wrote:

Knots

the no in the knowing
to know some no known.
you knew you'd neglected
that never-be-shown.

so no is the new way
of never, of knows.
of tweaking the action
to forsee the shows...

the music not twisted,
the picture-knot scene -
to know the not knowing
of knowledge between.

I spend my whole life with the question of where my next inspiration will come from always at the forefront of my subconscious. Inspiration is my motivating factor. It's the force that moves me. I dunno.

I really liked my poem, though. I haven't had one so flowy and well-strung just come out of me effortlessly like that in a long, long time.