[ Friday, January 09, 2004 ]
I'm home the last few days because we scored a big job that I'll begin on Monday.
So for the last few days, I've indulged my fantasy that there's some order to my thinking, that I have, in fact, made sense out of the randomly appearing particles of reality that appear before me.
If a tree can become wood, which in turn can become a boat, or a chair, then thoughts, too, can be made to grow, can be forced into one following another, generally tracing a linear path from dark to light.
I better figure this one out soon. The body does, indeed fail with age. That which only the body learned now can only be expressed through linear thought, with words. When you've only got one tool, you better damn well learn to use it.
So, next week, my hands will speak their native language, I'll turn some wood into something else. Then, if not damaged, turn them again to the keyboard. I'll let the clock order my priorities of what to read, what to care about, what to write about. I'll try not to waste to much of that time.
gonzoliberal [11:53 AM]