iblock

Blocking mats, wires, hundreds of T-pins and plenty of finished objects. All soft and squidgy and smooshy. I like soft things. Fuzzy-wuzzies which I can press my cheek to, fluffiness which I can sink my feet in and cocoon myself in comfort. Knit, purl, purl, knit. What a life, and what an art. Wearable as well as creative, so sucks to you, grandma, for calling me old fashioned and my art ‘old housewives sitting on the front stoop with nothing better to do than clack needles and tongues endlessly.’

My stash is threatening to take over my apartment and UFO’s in various stages of execution lay about here and there. A couple inches of ribbing on the sofa, an unpaired sock on the table, a poochie sweater with ends not woven in. Frogged (sigh, it took me so long to do that much) sweaters lying in an ignominious heap inside the telly trolley. And yarn everywhere, fuzzy ends on the floor, tangled and untangled and detangled cakes piled about just anyhow. From creation to chaos and from chaos to a cosmic (well almost) state of new creation. Such is life, as I said before, and here I am, with the fruits of my labor draped about me, cloudy trophies of my art.

You doubt my art, ma’am? Since it seems plebian to you, well everybody can knit of course and everybody, they say, can dance and paint a picture. Everybody is me, and yet, not-me, because I am everyone and I am no one. Sometimes I am an average Someone, point for point an ordinary little homemaker with few ambitions and some fulfilled desires. More often, I am no one because my writing and my words are me and if the well runs dry, then the bucket ceases to exist. Meaningfully, that is. Words and thoughts swirl away as the water does and whispers fade into the air. You don’t believe me do you? All right then, give me back my lost words. Words that used to be and may still exist in some dark, dank corner of the internet. Can you find them and bind them together? I thought not.

Blocking mats and pins and shiny little points, prick my finger and feel the sting. I wish I could block the kinks off myself and be what everyone wanted to be. Frog that. Wish I could block myself into what I wanted me to be.