An Essay in Lint

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Let me tell you about my hernia.  It's not something one usually likes to speak of in polite company or at least not in the company of those whose respect you crave.  But there may be a lesson in this for all of us - or at least the satisfaction of knowing there's someone out there more messed up than you.

It wasn't a hernia of the intestinal variety, but of the creative kind.     

Take one over-worked brain, a clothes dryer and some relaxed housekeeping and what have you got?   Lint Art.   Yes, that's correct.   Lint Art.

It's what happens when you work 12 hours a day as a radio copywriter, restricting your creative side to extolling the joys of 10% off at Crazy Clarks and creating for profit rather than pleasure.    You hold it in for long enough, eventually something's got to blow!

The next minute you know, you're gazing at a build up of lint filter fluff like it's the key to the universe.  It was all so clear.   The size of an old forty-five, these blue-grey discs were a record of life.  The very fabric of our being! 

There was the green tinge of the jumper Tim got for his birthday, the ribbon of pink courtesy of my beach towel, the white specks of a Hunters & Collectors concert ticket that Andy had left in his jeans.   Every loose thread, forgotten tissue and stray pubic hair had a story to tell.  

Woe betide Tim or Andy if they touched that lint filter!  I had lampshades to fashion, haute couture garments to design and murals to meld.   I was a woman with a vision - exhibitions, interviews, accolades - they would all be mine.  

No one could see what I saw and I couldn't see what they were seeing, until after many weeks of collecting my chosen media, I began to shape and lacquer my first lampshade.

As I moulded my masterpiece, my mind slowly cleared - staring at my attempted artwork was like standing in front of a mirror.   Who was this woman clutching chicken wire and spray varnish trying to seal this collection of fuzz and unidentifiable DNA into something that might adorn a bedside table?!

I was cured. 

I've now been completely lint-free for 10 years.  I don't even own a dryer.

But I am one of the lucky ones.   Just take a look at these guys  studiocapezzuti.com.      Someone call the gastroenterologist - that's what I call a hernia!

Ruth Brown is a freelance Creative Writer & Voice Artist with 18 years industry experience.  Mouthin' Off Voices & Scripts works with business to ensure every piece of their client communication is not only relevant, but remarkable enough to be remembered.   Stop blending in.  Be Heard.

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