Sarah Lenore Nelson
how do you ever
measure one's accomplish-
ments? do you pile one
on top of the other
like a grocery list, maybe
you just count the biggest
one... but by its size,
its impact, time spent in
its creation??... I can
hardly imagine finishing
the things I need to do
today, and if I did, no one
might ever know: things
that need to be repaired,
buttons in some drawer
somewhere, larger boxes to
be found to store things
in (projects for later),
maybe instead of new boxes
I can just stack multiple
boxes on top of each other,
that seems less finite, so
in the future I have freedom,
maybe clear out some other
boxes filled with stuff I
never got to, hidden under
that sculpture I haven't
finished, I was planning
on wearing that again
but I don't know what
I was thinking; maybe
I'll just throw it out,
buy some thing that
isn't broken in the first
place, besides you can
get something for less
now and it's probably
better, and throw out
the old thing and feel
much more relieved,
but then it has to go
into a pile somewhere,
really nowhere I can
prove, I mean I've
seen landfills but I've
never actually taken
my own object to a
landfill, I just close
the garbage can and
in my mind it's already
gone away... anyway
then it isn't any thing
to me anymore and I
don't have to make
special plans for its
future... any more. like
that big project I did
about failure and everyone
got so stuck on how it
was made of piles of
plastic, and totally missed
the point but then I changed
the idea and focused on
temporality, so that one
was more like a sketch
of the final project...
but the point was it
wasn't finished and
it just kept falling
apart, really crumbling
under its own weight
it so was so heavy, just a
real drain of energy
to take down, and it
ended up just piled in
a corner of my garage,
all heaped up, that if
you tried to unravel it,
it would just tear
apart more, and then
when I moved I had to
figure out what to do
with it, but couldn't
decide, so I put it off,
I mean I thought, maybe
one day I'll repair
it or use it again, but
since everything else
went into the truck
there just wasn't any
more room. I wish I
could see it now: in a
landfill, or maybe
spending its afterlife out
at sea, my own personal
failures floating around
the world for the rest
of eternity