I can waste time with the best of them. Whitman’s loafing. Though I suppose he meant something lurid.
I can loaf without an agenda. I am almost a Buddhist loafer. I am not kidding.
I can drink a pot of tea and admire the snow.
Spend half a day listening to Chopin’s concertos which are better than I remembered from my lonely childhood beside the phonograph.
Walk in circles around my neighborhood with a dog for company.
I can waste time.
I know soon enough time will waste me.
I’m not afraid.
Do you hear me clocks?
The nothing that is not there and the nothing that is….you don’t scare me.
The power that comes from drifting.
3 thoughts on “Brief Essay on Wasting Time, the Virtues Thereof”
I love this. Happy New Year to you, Steve — to another year of loafing, of wasting time, of peace and health. A mind of snow.
I love this. The mind of snow. Happy New Year — another one of loafing, of wasting time, of poetry and health and peace.
Immediately reminded me of the brilliant Robert Bly poem “Driving to Town Late to Mail a Letter”:
It is a cold and snowy night. The main street is deserted.
The only things moving are swirls of snow.
As I lift the mailbox door, I feel its cold iron.
There is a privacy I love in this snowy night.
Driving around, I will waste more time.
And then there’s this lesser work by a lesser known me:
The push is on to get more done,
to be efficient for no good reason,
least none that upper management will reveal.
So we scramble, driving fast down the road and texting,
past the cows chewing on slow wisdom
standing stock still in the pasture, black and white
against a blurred palatte of nauseating color. .
Thank you for your continued good work. I finished Planet Of The Blind two weeks ago and it was excellent. I talk about Have Dog, Will Travel almost too often. Such a great book.