herculean

i shifted in a cross-legged pose on the floor. my leg would be numb soon but i couldn't bear to stretch loose... that and there wasn't any room. my arms stretched out to pop some air between joints and i yawned a little. as i leaned back i could feel squares of paper spin slowly as my jeans touched them. straightening up i looked around me... a radiating pattern of tiny hand-made paper squares surrounding the tiny space around me and my typewriter. i fished out a small flask of whiskey from my cardigan pocket and took a sip. too bad i didn't have enough sense to bring a pack of gum with me.
my inner dialogue had a conflict... you mean, you care more about a spongy square of gum than the fact that you've surrounded yourself with paper and poetry?
what's wrong with a little creativity?
it's 4am... and you've been doing this since 2 in the afternoon!
that's not crazy. that's just getting the creative juices flowing.
when was the last time you drank water? took a break? stood up? your knees are about to fuse together...
i have everything i need right here, except for the gum. rationed booze, typewriter and lots of little squares to fill up with words...
isn't it distressing to pour yourself into this all in one night?
rising to the occasion?
no, you're going nuts and you compulsively stayed up working on anxious bits of art.
ah, yeah that's one way of looking at it. i never get the house to myself, why can't i stretch out with no cats to fuck about with supplies? no roommate to grump about the clacking keys for hours... the vague smell of carbon paper and sand that the typewriter makes when it's been running too long... why not get it all packed into one night?
looking around if someone walked in, this would look like a whole mess of crazy. i twisted the silver cap off the flask again for a lip-searing gulp. now i feel a little shakey... a little worn out from throwing myself into 4 to 10 lines of poetry hammered out onto squares... wood cut-like images of crows, frogs and hunched over bears... all put on as i was driven by subliminal thoughts of you-know-who... thinking about you-know-what... going stark raving something... something...