It's true what they say about all the good stuff happening at the edges

I've been working too much this week; no time for making art until this, another laundromat drawing this morning. I love the banal, public feel of that place – it's warm and it smells good. There's always some child or other making noise and a mom letting go of the last shreds of her patience (or was that me?); four loud televisions on four different channels; clanging and rocking unbalanced washers. And me trying to find a measure of quietness within. It reminds me of the story of a monk I read a few years ago. One's inner life, reflection, meditation, stillness and focus is possible everywhere, anytime. She used to sit zazen in the living room amidst her loving, boisterous family, with TV blaring, kids fighting, and dogs barking. I love that.
Someone recently asked me about the edges of my drawings... lately I've been sketching out haphazard rectangles or squares and making my work fit within them. Why? I dunno. So I'm paying more attention here to the ins and outs of the drawing and how it takes hold of the paper. Way more interesting.