I make lists all the time, my books are overflowing with annotations, and I have piles of note cards, pages and pages of nonsense and I keep writing more. All attempts at some kind of coherence often resulting in a pile. I wrangle reading, writing, songs, scraps, too little and too much education, or education in all of the wrong things to try to make sense. Piles form in the shuffling of absurdity, stupidity, chance and too many words. The loose ends to flap around.
Photography by P.D. Rearick