Lost in the jungles of possibility.
I used to keep seeing a blog about fashion. Women's. Somehow.
It kept showing up. And. Now and then I took a look. Not obsessively, but...
Because.
a) It was written by a lovely woman.
b) Sometimes the titles tickled me fancy.
c) The woman who wrote it (lovely) had her husband photograph her in her constantly changing outfits (nice). You know — nice.
d) The woman was lovely.
So, cool. Cool for me, in a pleasant way. Not the point though.
Here I start sounding cranky. Then she had to show off a new apartment.
Struck me, it did, this thing — Her drawers.
No — the other ones. So neat. So tidy. So perfect.
Bathroom arrangements. Toothpaste, bits of necessity in ranked orderly array.
She knew what she wanted, what she needed, and she made it so.
Her design was set.
She had her template.
She knew what worked.
She had a franchise for living.
She was so tidy and clean and organized that my teeth ached. Or something. Something ached. Maybe it was the teeth. There was an aching going on.
Her life, its organization, her pride in it, like a parking lot at the end of a road. The product. The result. The manifestation. The culmination. The good idea fully fulfilled. A patented pattern. Fruition.
Good ideas, where do they start though? How?
Not printed 30 by 40 on glossy paper in six colors, handed out on street corners. Not to start.
Not laid out grid by grid with millimeter precision. Not to start.
Tidiness preserves. Tidiness tidies, suppresses. Tidiness is good, once you have a thing, to keep that thing squeaky and bright clean, in order, perfectly, forever. But you don't invent tidily.
Inventiveness needs mess. For inspiration. At least some. Some mess.
With some mess (not too much) and some disorder (a reasonable amount) you get hope of inspiration.
You never know. That's the thing.
You never know. Where or when or how or from what direction.
Creative destruction and creative anarchy are siblings. Don't be a slob, but cultivate fermentation. The right kind of mess can be in your head, and sit there comfortably, invisibly, a nest of ideas genially partying in the back room and tickling you every now and again.
Get to know the process first, see what comes of it, and judge later. You judge later.
Up front, float when you have a problem or an assignment, for a while. Float for a while. Wander. In case of inspiration, take notes then.
Be friendly, and welcoming to strangers, especially if they're emerging from your head. The right people, at the right time, too, in the right place, are good to have. The right teammates.
Explore. Explore it all. While maintaining a subcritical mass. For a bit. While you wait for the thousand flowers to bloom.
That is: First, make mistakes. Leave room for them. Kill time by making lists.
Mix them up. Randomize. See what you get. Or not. See it all.
Anyway, welcome the unexpected on its terms. Be stupid and open-minded, as the best are, innocently. The best creators.
There be fun things, new things, creative things yonder. Yonder — some far yonders but some near yonders too.
When you come to something, face-to-face-wise, and it takes your breath away, and you're not sure exactly what is happening, and when you recover, but not really — then. Then.
Then you have something. You have something when you look at it and get dizzy all over and over again.
After that you can get organized.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@gmail.com
Me? Feeling smart today. About time for another faceplant then, I guess.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals