A Loose Declaration of Intents

It's a great time to be alive kids.  For the next four weeks anyhow.  After that you won't want to be alive quite as much, which isn't to say that you won't want to be alive, because I think you will, just not quite as much.  So pay attention (both of you).  I have some words.

The first post on this blog was without words.  I wanted to let the images set the tone.  I also didn't really know what to say.  I was tentative and didn't know where I was going.  Since that long-ago first post I have been making progress.  I am headed somewhere.  I'm still not sure where it is but I'm pretty sure that it is an actual place and that I'm heading in its general direction (I'm hoping it's not in the Arctic or anywhere colder than Chicago, but will let it take me where it must).

It's true that The Trapezoid Sleeps is still young and naive and will continue to be so for some time.  These are not characteristics I wish to shed.  On the contrary, I will embrace them.  I hope they are with me forever.  I will embrace them because with youngness and naivety come experimentation, rule-breaking, misguidance, imagination, zeal, kittens, comics, pain, revelation, observation, injury, vomiting, Saturdays, discovery, innovation, brilliance, turbulence, fist-fights, instability, irresponsibility, honesty, flight, mummmbling, embarrassment, greatness, strength and inspiration.  Isn't it about time for a bit of those things?  I hope you are nodding in agreement.

Maybe I shouldn't say it, but just thinking about "interiors" bores me.  I want to take them apart.  To get inside and take out the insides of inside.  To knock things down, stomp and destroy, admire the mess, take stock of what's left, mine the rubble, and with patience begin again.  I want to make something new from the pieces.

Things will be happening this month.  It's actually already happening.  Sure, it's the shortest month around and I'm at a serious couple days disadvantage for divulging the maximum amount of wisdom possible, but it won't matter.  It's going to be great.  If you've had enough of my self-proclamations stop reading.  I don't care.  If you don't think I can do it I don't care about that either.  You know why?  Because I only have so much potential for caring and I'm reserving every bit of it for re-envisioning our interior habitats and posting the proceeds.

This is the heart of what I'll be doing for the next month.  I intend to expound and deliver, to prophesy and exclaim.  This blog will be the record of those efforts.  It will live here forever.  It will be your manual for the part of life you spend indoors.  I'm telling you this, in part, as a warning, so that in the darker days (March and April and beyond) you will remember this month of incomparable merit.  Please come back and visit.  Return to The Trapezoid's February archives.  Rediscover and push forward.  Help others push forward.  I don't intend to dwell in gloom (not yet) because we still have a full amazing month ahead, but you need to be fully warned.  Do not get caught up in the inevitable wave of joy of the coming weeks.  It will invariably crash.  I'm telling you that right now.  And for those who think they may be able to ride this wave forever, well, theirs will be the bones we find at the bottom of the ocean many years later on a misguided sunken treasure hunting expedition.  Will those future treasure hunters know how those bones came to be?  No they won't.  And they won't care.  They won't know or care about this design blog either when that time comes, but, they will know, and will be eating the tasty yield of the seeds being sown this month.  Now here's where I need you.  You are the ground.  Don't be rocky or sandy.  Don't let anyone come along with skull and crossbones labeled bottles spilling the contents all over you.  Wrap these seeds in warmth and wetness.  Fill yourself with nitrogen, phosphorous and potassium.  Keep it loose and airy.  And please be happy.  Don't be those bones.  Don't even think about those bones anymore.  Be the soil.  This moment is the eve of each Christmas, Halloween and birthday you've ever had, attended, or will have or will attend all wrapped together and stretched out into one full month of celebration.  You should wake up excited and eager to bathe in the warm viscous slightly-salty substance that is the zephyr of design nourishment.  You know where to find it.

It's February 2010.  The greatest month ever to live indoors.