#foldedclock

[caromelon]

As a writer, I have mistaken how to use words. I write too much. I write like some people talk to fill silence. When I write, I am trying through the movement of my fingers to reach my head. I’m trying to build a word ladder up to my brain. Eventually these words help me come to an idea, and then I rewrite and rewrite and rewrite what I’d already written (when I had no idea what I was writing about) until the path of thinking, in retrospect, feels immediate. What’s on the page appears to have busted out of my head and traveled down my arms and through my fingers and my keyboard and coalesced on the screen. But it didn’t happen like that; it never happens like that.

The Folded Clock: A Diary by Heidi Julavits

[getcedar]

A nice reflection on keeping over at the “Paper of Record” 

So though my trash failed to bring me joy, I decided that it might, in the future, bring somebody else joy (that somebody might be me), and in preparation for that possibility, I should preserve it. I should make a keeping society — a virtual one, exhibited online, where there’s plenty of space — from my desk trash. And so I have.

We think everyone should have a Folded Clock journal in their pocket.