Recently my laundry, both dirty and clean , have become a form by which I outwardly construct my lack of desire to maintain my own personal and mental comfort. When my cloths aren't fashioning my body they're decorating my floor, and as much as I like to tell myself to clean up, fold cloths, and become tidy, I just can't seem to do so. Some part of me really enjoys dredging through yesterdays unfinished business, procrastinating, or just generally letting shit slide. My laundry is a simple object that I'm using to represent the slipping aspect of my daily life. Mentally, I wanted something to be different about September 21st, and I wanted to see the results immediately. I desperately needed a change for the positive on this day. I wanted to carry a new effort into the future, so I began by taking a critical look at my internal personal spaces, and bu making small changes that would ripple into my future.


3 comments:
Hey! Is that my towel?
rob yer silly. stevie-i have the same thoughts about my kitchen. only in a bachelor pad can greasy rags, nuts and bolts, dirty dishes, coffee grounds, and banana peels peachfully coexist in the sink.
it could be your towel! I tend to have everyone's shit that moves out of Denver.
naetron- Coexist? They're probably thriving to be more exact. Mhh, sounds like a the old, "everything but the proverbial kitchen sink" scenario. If it wasn't for the nats and flies, oh the god awful smell I might never do my dishes.
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