Little Black Dot

i've had trouble these last days.
writing. concentrating on any one thing
at a time. finishing what i start.
meals, projects, etcetera.
sentences.
this is the second saturday in a row i'll be
in bed by ten thirty, but tonight
i'm not sad about it.

i'm having some funny insights about solitude,
about hermitude. and this morning i said
ok, chelsea.
that does it. you are leaving the house
right now, and you are staying out
all day.
on my way to the sea i found a copy of sophie's world at a yard sale for a dollar
and i bought it and i did indeed stay out and all day i had to carry it in my hand
because it wouldn't fit in my purse.
it's a good book. a heavy book. and warm. worn.
there's a little writing in it, even.
already i'm almost a quarter of the way thru and when i get into bed i will keep reading.
i'm on the chapter all about
aristotle.