...I decided to take the weekend off to tackle a pile of less creative tasks like laundry, dusting and vacuuming. Yesterday while I was vacuuming, the bones of a poem popped into my head, so I stopped what I was doing and quickly put the words down on paper. Some of my best work has come to be while flossing my teeth, but if memory serves me correctly, this is the first to come during vacuuming. The origin of the word floss goes rather well with the creative process. Rough silk. That's a nice way of describing the beginnings of a poem. Unfortunately, the word vacuum comes from the Latin vacuus meaning empty or void. That's not so good.
This morning I read about the journals of the Goncourt brothers. Yikes. While I do share bits of news and such with writers, usually about myself, I clearly don't know the first thing about dishing literary gossip. May my "archive of anxiety and thwarted ambition" and repository of "woes and disappointed hopes" always be small and unremarkable. A vacuum. A mean free path of great magnitude.