Inconsist

 In the 1980's I was smitten with notebooks created by Peter Beard. I stumbled upon a book about his sketchbooks and how they were such an integral part of his life. This was about the same time I started reading all of Isak Dinesen's books. Out of Africa became one of the most important (for me) books I read in that decade. Then the movie of the same name came out. I discovered that Peter Beard also had a fascination with her. At about the same time, I decided to take a trip to Alborg, Denmark with my sister. A collision of sorts came about in my creative life. My ancestral home is Alborg. 

So, I have struggled against my respect for books and my artistic mind wanting to create a journal ON the pages of Peter Beards book. To this day, I still struggle with this urge. I still have not done it. But, I still might do it. It is another thought experiment that will not go away.

The funny thing about this is that in doing research on the railroad system in the United States and Europe for this writing project I am working on I discovered that Peter Beards great grandfather was founder of the Great Northern 

Railroad.

This story I started seems much like a snowball rolling down a hill because the more I do the more I find to enhance it. Also, it is becoming what I think about most of the time.

I wish I might have taken this more seriously.

One of my truly favorite books is "Atlas Shrugged." by Ayn Rand. This also is always on my mind. I do not understand how come we do not have a rail system, today, that would resolve many problems our country has regarding fuel and infra-structure. Not to mention the power struggles that are unbelievable. 

Like the Beatles sing in "Imagine."

My fourth grade teacher told my mother that I am consistently inconsistent. If you are one of those who read this blog you know how true that is. I still can not make up my mind about commas. I love Gertrude Stein because she got away with doing what I do.

This blog is sort of like Peter Beards journals. I just lolli gag around because I do it because I can not not do it. My new love is taking photographs with my mini-ipad. This is like carrying bottles of ink and watercolors and type and fiber and beads and and and wherever I go.

I am sure I am just like everyone else.

I am writing this off the top of my head, today, so forget about the form. It is what it is.

What is a cloud?

This "book" is supposed to be fiction. It is becoming more real than real. The avenues presented by what I am thinking about have led me to some interesting ideas.

 1. My library card. That was the most important thing to me when I was four years old.

2. My own personal library is out of control.

3. I have six Kindles. Not all of them live in my own personal space. I share my virtual library with other people.

4. My visual thinking is hooked into sound; by that I mean when I am occupied by something that is automatic, like driving a car or knitting, I can see in my memory exactly what I saw when I was listening. I fall asleep listening to either music or a book. I have done this all of my life.

5. I have been reading or have read: all of the below live on my Kindle. I have many other books about books.(real) I do not know why I am telling this. I do know that I embrace experience. I see this as amusing. My sense of humor is great. When I have no access to physical books, it is a wonderful thing to be able to grab it from a cloud. Space is always on my mind. I am a minimalist with a lot of things. What really strikes me is that then you die. I wonder about that, too. Is there a cloud in heaven? Or are we just the cloud. Until I find that out I will enjoy the process of reading and living.
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