Monday, October 22, 2012

Decisions

One of those days when the reap exceeds the sow. Living off the fat that doesn't exist. Any given year I plant more trees than I harvest, but any given day that might not be true. I grant myself certain days of indulgence, more often, as I get older and bags of cement seem to be heavier than they once were. Once I used to carry rocks (glacial till, they looked like African heads) for miles on a beach in West Tisbury, just to get home, so I could mount them on a stump and talk to them. Talking to a rock is a whole lot different from imagining spirits. I had a large quantity of composted shit from the outhouse and the composting toilet, and I'd ordered some morel spat from a place that advertised in the local electrical cooperative magazine. I get three magazines, that, the New Yorker, and the London Review Of Books, which I get second hand, from B. I'm so out of touch. I don't know who any of those entertainment people are, reading the news. Most of them should be shot, they're a bad example of what it's like to be human. Part of me would like to get my hands on those fake breasts, but the greater part prevails, and I read some essays about herding goats in Colorado. Blind turtles, as Howard said to god. Or an angel, which would be god, part of, anyway. I ask you, honestly, what was the pivotal moment in your life? I remember mine, I was walking the outer beach at Wellfleet and there was a large surf, hammering the shore. I felt something, that started at my feet and vibrated through my entire body, wow, I thought, it might be possible to write. Then I started paying attention. It's always in detail.

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