What Has Become Routine

in bubbles, we glide.

over life and through

in bubbles – much like little rats on spinning wheels

much like little rats on spinning wheels

we make our way

isolated, never connecting

alone

 

we exist in small worlds

ever vanishing globes

spheres of influence

here today and gone the next

isolated, never connecting

alone

 

inside the marbles eye

glass and pinpricks of air

crystallized as though caught in amber

for auld lang syne

 

habits, lingering routines

despite wild dreams of escape

trapped within the muck and mire

held for auld lang syne sake

——————————–

Oh Look! I wrote you a poem today! That wasn’t even in my mind when I sat down to write, but apparently the baby was ready to be birthed. Erm. Well then, what I’d planned on writing was more along the lines of what the hell I do pretty much every Saturday.

I go to the market, get my coffee and briouats and a glazed pretzel, this is part of my routine. I have a long standing routine of buying these items and consuming them as I purchase the next item. Occassionally, I break with tradition and buy other items as well, but this is my standard fare. At the very least the coffee gets me going and once my brain has sprung into existence from it’s daily hibernation time I’m capable of creativity.

Sustenence first. Then creative productivity.

After my feast, I go to the creative reuse and rummage. You would think that since I go nearly every week there might not be much change in the offerings, but generally there are new pieces of ohhhs and ahhhs that I can gawk at while allowing my brain to spin. Sometimes I go in with a vague idea of some sort of thing I’d like to find, but just as often I find myself going without specific interests or projects in mind. I search through bins for odd bits and pieces – literally. Beads and bobbles, threads and ribbons, scraps and whatnots, that’s what this place specializes in and what I come for each time. It’s a mishmash; a collidescope of wonder. And I love it.

I always leave with a sense of excitment for what’s to come. The creative time that follows the gathering of supplies. I usually scurry right back home to put my hoarded items in their proper recepticles (boxes, bottles, bins, and drawers) before I begin; things must be in their proper place.

Then I let the magic take control. I create whatever odd – or sometimes not so odd – thing my brain hodgepodges together. I love being able to reuse items that used to have a fixed purpose, but with my mind this ‘purpose’ becomes quite malleable. Here are today’s curiosities.

 

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