On Leaving America – Part 10 B

Packing Up
Part 2 of 2

Suddenly I don’t know where some things are . . .  or in a way I do. There is a large box hurriedly filled to get a bunch of my papers out of the way—writing begun years ago, critiques, ideas, notes. Acceptance letters, (not so many of those) rejection slips – (lots of those). This paper glacier waits inside a cardboard box in the spare bedroom and will soon disappear from my cognitive map. It will move from the bedroom to the garage and from there fade into unknown space until the day it surfaces in Sweden.

Thank God for on-line submissions and rejections. So much less paper I should keep somewhere.  Of course there are computer records. I’ve got three computers, each with different capabilities. A newer one, an older one, and one I built. There is a fourth. I bought an adapter case and was going to remove its hard drive. There’s a $600 one-time-only graphics program on there. Once secure inside the case I could use it as a giant USB. But it feels like I’m planning to remove its heart. I’m not sure I can do it. It’s an old computer, but a good one and it works, has no connection to the Internet – secure!
My hard drives are as confused as my room. So many files, things to get back to, photos I might need . . . programs. My PC desktop is a digital chaos, but I know about where things are. Face book, middle left of screen. All graphic stuff on lower right, Photoshop, Inkscape, Photostich.
Some of you are neat, the opposite of me, as organized as A  B  C. I admire that. I wish it would work for me, I really do. I make sporadic attempts. I have 5 two-drawer file cabinets—all full. I should throw some of their files away. There are old stories that don’t work—years old. Short stories I might never get back to. But there are frameworks, skeletons  that lie in wait to be dug up someday . . . If I survive this move I may have time or not. Few short stories do not sell, they go unnoticed and unread. Seems like they would be in this time of so little time. 24/7.
I’d better get back to packing. Putting my cognitive map into the trash. I’ll make a new one. Will the old one take up space in my subconscious?
‘Memory almost full.’

About Bruce Louis Dodson

Bruce Louis Dodson is an American expat now living in Borlänge, Sweden with his wife, cat and dog. He is an artist and world traveler who writes fiction and poetry and practices photography in his less than copious free time. His work has appeared in: Barely South Review - Boundaries Issue, Blue Collar Review, Pulsar Poetry (UK), Foliate Oak, Breadline Press West Coast Anthology . The E-buffet, Qarrtsiluni, Struggle Magazine, Pearl Literary Magazine, Contemporary Literature Review: India, 3rd Wednesday, Sleeping Cat Books - Trip of a Lifetime Anthology, Northern Liberties Review, Authors Abroad - Foreign & and Far Away Anthology, The Path, Page & Spine, The Crucible, Sleeping Cat Books -Trips of a Lifetime, Vine Leaves, Pirene's Fountain,Tic Toc Anthology - Kind of a Hurricane Press, Cordite Poetry Review, Buffalo Almanac and mgv2.
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9 Responses to On Leaving America – Part 10 B

  1. stutleytales says:

    Oh, my gosh! Bruce… you still have so much to do 🙂 When is the moving date? Good luck – you’re going to need it 🙂

  2. Your office looks like my office. But don’t feel bad about all the clutter. I have a paper weight somewhere on my desk here under all the papers, bills, checkbooks, coffee cups, water bottles, pen, pencils, photos, and books…excuse me a moment while I search for it. Ah, yes, here it is – It’s a small chunk of black and white marble with words on top that read, “A cluttered desk is a sign of genius.” So you see, all that mess only means you’re creative. And frankly, I wouldn’t trade that in just for a clean desk.

  3. catnipoflife says:

    Looks familiar, Bruce! hahaha When is the actual moving (leaving the country) date?

  4. Have your cats been helping with the filing?

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