“Folding Time” Goldfield Journal #22

While society folds, painting in a white trailer in the desert, I’m burning old wood scraps to keep myself warm. It’s as if we’re watching from afar here in Goldfield. It’s like thinking about the folding of spacetime.

I hung the United States’ flag today in my living room. It was mostly to cover my weather-proofed window job. It came in an order, this flag, in the mail, till this morning, sitting in a box on the porch and I guess the dogs found it. I picked it up off the porch this morning observing its pure colors and complex layout. It felt foreign. It’s a shiny fake one. I wish there was a flag that just stood for America.

My house is a little warmer now. There’s a lot to think about here. Getting rid of this little mouse that shits all over is a priority and then there are still leaks in the windows. There are leaks in the roof too and I gotta’ get the water working here for sewage.

The other day I fixed plumbing in Michael Mark’s house. I’m fixing my door jamb. I’m growing a beard.

It’s focusing on what this time is about. Painting is drawing me in. I’m writing too.

To fold spacetime, one puts a kink in the fabric of the cosmos, but one stands still while doing it. Maybe that’s where I’m at.

I keep painting; the world folds around me.


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