I was cleaning up a long list of no-longer-used tags in my task management tool of choice, Todoist, and as I was deleting the ones that no longer in use, I was idly reading them. Places I’d traveled — montreal, lugano, sf — brought back memories of visits and friends and goodbye kisses. And places I had plans to visit, and may still see: asheville, são paulo, bucharest. Companies I’ve worked with, some of whom are no more, and foods I searched for and found in great restaurants: hand-pulled noodles, beef soup, dumplings and fried chicken. A few names, some totally forgotten, but mostly things, companies, places, and sales status terms: pitch, cold, hot, dead. The things I am fascinated with shine through even when acronymed: fof (the future of food), fow (the future of work), freelance market. And my recent civic involvement in Beacon NY, where I’ve lived now for three years: greenway (the Beacon Greenway committee, which is now the Beacon Trails committee, after our development of the Greenway master plan, now accepted by the City Council), beaconstreets (the blog and loose alliance of people committed to making Beacon a more walkable and wonderful place), and democrats (The Beacon Democratic Committee, where I am member now, helping to pull them into the 21st century with a new website). And the most evocative may be the projects I’d planned, but haven’t started or completed: imaginary appliances (an investigation of future conceived or modeled objects and their impact on our thinking about the future), and mind (my on-going research into social cognition and related insights into the human mind).
Thinking about that led to this:
There is a back-of-the-closet poetry in the discards of our tool use, like the shavings that fall onto a carpenter’s floor. Even the exhaust of our frenetic lives tells a story, revealed in a bright shadow beneath our hurried feet, or like the tangled by-products carted out of a busy calendar factory.