Things and not-things

I was in the mood to write a little something and luckily a spill occurred and this wet floor sign appeared. I sat for a bit, looking at the sign, thinking the usual questions of what draws me to an object (why do I always feel a little skeptical of myself when referring to something as an object ?) such as this one? Why write about something I am drawn to? Do I want to write about everything I am drawn to? Is there a subset of “things I am drawn to” that I want to write about? Do I enjoy writing about things that seem like they don’t necessarily deserve to be written about--things that may be self-explanatory, and that make writing about them seem like an extraneous effort? One way this wet floor sign stands out to me is in being one of the few objects in this coffee place that names itself. That has already written itself. (I also see “whole milk,” “half and half,” “simple syrup,” “water.”) Actually, the wet floor sign doesn’t name itself like these other items do, but names the scen...

I’ve been trying to think of the perspective from which, or the question out of which it occurred to me to think about objects on the ground and words on a line. To think about these two things as being similar scenarios. Have I been thinking of objects on the ground as words on a page? Have I been thinking of the line under words as a ground? Am I asking what happens if I do?  A lot of the objects I like live on the ground. Ground objects = construction cones, fire hydrants, bushes, mailboxes, recycling bins, etc. Each one of these items has a connecting point to the ground, and is perpendicular to it in a way that resembles words being perpendicular to the lines they stand on. (Stand on?) Though, a thing about words on lines: It seems true to say that handwritten words are the only words that exist on visible lines (i.e. writing on loose leaf or in notebooks). Which in turn leads me to feel that there’s something about these ground objects that I like, that also happen to be r...