I've a mail art mailing and a chess poem book mailing to do today, but now the time is fleeting, and it may soon move to tomorrow's list. My new nervousness.org exchange offer, in which I offered to exchange one of my own poems in a badly decorated envelope for anyone else's poems in a decorated envelope, has already garnered three takers. I've noticed with nervousness.org that exchangers for my exchanges only arrive if I add something odd. If I'd offered mere poem for poem, then I'd have no takers. Make that poem + badly decorated envelope for poem, and even Lauren Bacall would sign up to exchange.
I wrote a poem for submission to a 'zine during lunch today. I have never been much of a 'zine person, but it was an interesting 'zine topic by an interesting 'zine sponsor. I'm so flush with accomplishment I'm tempted to go to crosses.net and send to any mail art call I can find that does not repulse me. Today I've also been quite productive at work. I don't know what has happened, but let's pretend it's some positive reflected stardust--from the Lauren Bacall character in the movies.
Books to read, books to read. I must finish Portrait of Paloma. I must finish Rebecca. I must finish a Geranium for Miss somebody or other. I must get the last marigold out of the second act of the gamma-infested moon and return that book to the Garland library. I must return the Texas folk art book to the library (favorite quote: "welders seem to always be creative people"). I love it when I can write sentences with lots of "I must" in them, and every "must" is something I actually can and will do. That's a nice substitute for true accomplishment. Now I've got to saunter into the break room, grab a sultry diet Coke, and wonder whether Bogart could handle a weedeater as well as he did a chess game or a Baja marlin, as I contemplate an evening of yard work ahead.