A Period In Which I Come To Realize Inertia Is The Death Of Creativity

11 Jul

A Hotel Lobby at the Edge of the World
by Adam Clay
Milkweed Editions
96 pgs, $16

I am only
Starting to gather up what
I claim as my own.

I am amazed at how many
Days can go by in which I say
Nothing.

I have more energy than I have been energetic in months. A restless itch, an expanding chest, a ceaseless shake of the legs. The only solution: a midnight walk in Chinatown. I was looking for the place with the most people, but all the street vendors were closed, all the children asleep. I was looking for alleyways to photograph. I was looking for a new subway stop. Get on, pick a number: six. Six by six. Six stops brought me to Koreatown.  I wanted a stop I’d never seen before, a place I couldn’t find. It has become difficult to get lost. What if the place with the most convergence is the place where everything is hiding? I counted the train line with the most stops and rode it bottom to top. Then got out and got on and rode it top to bottom. I made sure no one saw.

These are the first attempts at turning an unproductive circle into a square, a shape offering an exit point. I wanted everything different. I sat in different corners of my apartment, I looked for everything new, photosmusicbooksmagazinespeoplespacepaperpensfooddrink.

The man with a stroller
Filled with aluminum cans is now coming back up the street
With a wheelbarrow.

Here’s to reclaiming productivity. Here’s to looking for discomfort.

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