Sense of Wonder

I had reason to open "Gravity's Rainbow", looking for a particular word and thought to call Glenn and Linda. I have burns on the back of my hands that I can't explain, and the frogs are very loud. There's probably no connection, but I was thinking about Derrida, and what's signified. I wanted the calm voice of reason. the purpose of my call, but after talking with Linda, and then taking with Glenn, I realized I was not the normal correspondent. Whatever my concerns. Linda mentioned and Glenn confirmed I was writing well, authentic, if that word hadn't been used to death by now, which it has. In the sense that I reveal myself. Fucking bugs and frogs make it difficult, a maelstrom of confusion, what actually happens is more a matter of happenstance. Sometimes nothing makes any sense. Like the other day, I was walking over to Kroger to buy some coffee, and I forgot to stop at the ATM and get some money, distracted by the sex life of trees. It's spring, after all, and the outdoors is confusing, a playground of sexuality. Stamens and pistils, birds fucking on the sidewalks, a horny squirrel looking for a mate; and I needed to turn around, go back to the bank, get some cash. Right then, exactly when I needed it, I found a twenty dollar bill, wadded up in the gutter. I'm not a lucky guy, but it's happened a few times, that I found what I needed. Not often enough to form a pattern, heaven forbid an algorithm (no, Tom, this is not a pattern, merely footprints in the sand), and the sum total of our knowledge is almost nil. I reread the opening page of "Gravity's Rainbow" and I was blown away. Actually, it's not possible to write that well. Some witchery going on. You and Bobby meeting at the crossroad. Just happened you had a mouth-harp, blew a few notes, cleared the air, super-hero. Jesus with a saxophone. I only write as well as I do by paying attention to detail. Whatever. Late, trying to roll a cigaret, my fingers aren't working, I'm struck with a sense of inadequacy.