Something is happening here, but you don't know what it is...

Warning, friends. There's nothing here today but random thoughts lacking cohesion & purpose. First of all, here's a poem by a one Mr Charles Bukowski...

so you want to be a writer?

if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there &
rewrite it again & again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.

if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands
of people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull & boring &
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun in side you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in
you

there is no other way.

and there never was.

Charles Bukowski, 2002

I've heard of great poets & writers that they can't sleep at night, their thoughts or ideas keep them awake at night. I'm the opposite, I often think of stuff I dream about as brilliant but can never remember it in the morning. Anyway, this poem is a tough pill to swallow.

Let me tell you a bit about what I call work. It's usually not really work at all. Much of the days belong to random conversations with customers about all kinds of things, only about half of it having anything to do with paint. It's a relatively small group of people we have these conversations with & strangely enough, though not necessarily by design, are the customers that spend the most money at our store. The conversations are not limited to regulars, if we have somebody browsing for colors many times I'll engage them in whatever topic might be at hand if I think they'd find it interesting. I often have this conflict within myself about how much work I could get done if this didn't occur everyday but on the other hand I wonder if it may be good for business. The latter usually wins out. I suppose you are wondering if customers orders get done on time & if customers are greeted in a timely manner. It's often a topic of discussion, especially the diner bell we use to signify that an order is complete. Gloria's finally come around to it, the rest of it loved it from the very second the idea popped into my head.

I had more random thoughts I was going to ramble on about, but I'm kind of hungry.

Five Favorite Songs of the Day

Make You Feel My Love-Bob Dylan, Herning Denmark 2007

Thunder on the Mountain-Bob Dylan, Herning Denmark 2007

Blowin' in the Wind-Bob Dylan, Herning Denmark

AntiChrist Television Blues-The Arcade Fire

Ain't Talkin'-Bob Dylan, Herning Denmark 2007

Happy Thursday, friends...

andrew