No More

The myth that there is actually something, out there, greater than your own self-interest. We're all so deeply involved in self-interest. This has always been the case, I think. The only way you can survive, is to be intensely interested in where the next foot falls. These past weeks, the moment that stands out, I was in the woods, looking for morels, which involves a kind of intense looking, in which attention is tightly focused. A passion, really, which, by definition, excludes everything else (a perfect use of really, in passing) including whatever the next thing might be. Assume the worst: you're caught between a rock and a hard place. Caught in a back-drift, wondering why you should be the one that had to shoulder this load. Surely there's an immigrant we could foist this on. Bad mood, I can taste the bile, but I don't know why I feel so pissed. Caulk it up to mere accumulation. Thank god there's a ridge I can retreat to. But, you know, life is too much, confronted straight up. We have to relegate things, depending on their import. I seem to have to charge language, a mandate from the other side, and I have no clue what that is. You probably have to do a load of laundry. Where was I go going with that, right, looking for morels. Serious business, looking closely. What I've learned in the last dozen years is that the more closely you look the more is revealed. But you do need to glance ahead, every once in a while, to avoid the monster rattlesnake that's six feet in front of you.