8 APRIL 06
Week 8, 14 sentences:
"Would you come down and show me where the shadow is?" (Just that fast, the light had shifted.)
"I like a book that makes me wonder about books." "I like the dog in Hades."
At the end of a year, it returns to itself. It happened when I was asleep.
To be held at gunpoint [commentary]. It's a cloud [see wordy].
Roadblock is two sides. It's worse than that, it's something else: small-minded.
Very "future," with black. Afterwards, a reception.
That’s not Ave Maria! So there's no sense in decorating.
:
Week 9, 14 sentences:
Some of these things can be explained. Will this remind me of the walk on the pier? Rain tomorrow. Will she know it did help me to talk it all over, even though I seemed uncheered?
Black with roots, to the bottom of the glass. She is "the chair." Forgot to mention the first thing that happened was a little dog bit her on the leg! The next question involves floating itself. Or list, in order of importance: as the barrel of a mortar, the increasing distance to the moon, a book of numbers, watch that car.
As to what is keeping me so busy, well, while the strength and skill of great ice skaters is obvious, it's easy to overlook the remarkable surface that makes it all possible. Freezing a rink correctly takes no less than a dozen stages.
The brain is a town, and a strong idea will go from house to house, ringing every doorbell, shaking every hand, not leaving until the job is done. But there's that house where the people peer out through the blinds, won't come to the door, won't open up. The brain refuses to be completely convinced--ever--some stubborn part always saying: I might disagree with this, with myself, with every other voter in the town of my brain.
. . . . . . . .
