Adrift

For some reason more than ever I feel adrift in an ocean of information.  Writing has always helped me feel more centered.  On occasion playing the guitar does it as well.  Sitting in a circle with the kids I teach and carrying on a conversation in which everyone is present and turned on does it too.  Driving without a destination sometimes helps and sometimes makes it worse.  Buying things online or in a store has worked.  I wish more activities could lend this kind of focus to my life.  Reading used to, but now it seems as if I'm just dipping my big nose into other worlds of information.  I made a movie from some footage of friends playing disc golf, and putting that together was a mild form of what I'm trying to describe.

I'm still trying to finish Salinger's biography, which seems like a bunch of information.  Mary Oliver's poetry can be soothing.  Gertrude Stein's writing on Picasso is nearly indiscernible for some reason.

In the meantime I entered a few contests.  They are Rattle's poetry contest, and the Norman Mailer writing award for high school teachers.  I usually care way too much about these kinds of things.  

I've attached a picture Wyatt took.