I have no idea what is happening – it’s like throwing pennies off a bridge. I just can’t get comfortable – it seems like the only thing that connects my life and art together is pain – it’s painful when I put them together – and more painful when I pull them apart. In 2007 I quit straddling the pain, quit my job, and moved to a rural studio in New York State. I work on creative projects, work on my life, and work on the day-to-day necessities of existence. No cell phone, no social media, no networking. But as I work on the books displayed on this author’s page; I feel another kind of pain — the pain of not working on something else: my printmaking and drawing are being neglected, my poetry output is a dripping faucet, and it looks like I’ll be telling NYFA that the Idea Enhancement Project just added another year to its timeline. When I read what I’ve just written; it’s as true as anything I can think of — but then so is the opposite: I need to process everything that happens . . .
September 8, 2021
They just don’t want to hear it.
Voice mailboxes make it easy for government employees to avoid taking action on agricultural complaints — just “leave a message,” and wait for a callback . . .
Or you could try another employee and leave a message, and wait for a callback . . .
Then, if you decide call the clerk’s office, they put you through to a voice mailbox where you “leave a message,” and wait for a callback . . .
[Do they really expect us to know our party’s extension?]
Finally, when you get a callback, they say can’t do anything to help and pass you on to another department . . . with a voice mailbox . . . where you can “leave a message. . .”
You Know You Live near a Factory Farm When Your Kids Go Fishing with a Pool Skimmer