And why. For the feelgood of course a merging emerging what do you want how can the this be better best brought to life here and say I like it. My time is my life so use it in praising the ability of fingers bodymind. here get excited about newness. Industry and work. Scary thoughts. Play better play more play now.

Up in his head he retreaded the past or his version of it. It wasn't much to go on. Yes go on. In justice he wondered often what he could add in the face of all that ought to be subtracted. Never one to do without doubt he always had a feeling that something ought to be mustered before beginning instead of beginning. These and other considerations caused an incontinental drift of imaginary squandering. A spreading splaying dissipation of intent. So what. By now I'm sure to have lost them he thought lost in thought or an amazing simulacrum.

Where was he. He was right there all the time asking a really stupid question. Till tomorrow when it might start again if only he could be certain. He took the admonitions of others to heart saltily. I'm beginning no I thought I was ready to begin but just let me take a look another look at what's been said by others before about this. Hm that's very interesting I wonder what his associates have to say about that point his critics his predecessors oh the hell with it what's on tv.

Once more. Read relax renew what has yet to be spent. Storing up creative credit for a rainy day then let it pour as if he'll live that long. Defer and redefer. Now no pause but the movement of these waves. A continuance granted in the face of a task he's not sure he can face undertaking. Better the potential inherent in the blank it's safer it's surer no one will know his many failures only the one the nothing.

Peering around the world at himself in the midst of the instant attempt a kind of kindness washes over him he's aglow with love for his poor striving self and not for the first time like looking at a child as a parent might while the wee one struggles ah he's learning he's doing what he can that's life that's all.

Now he wonders should he tell a story that would be safer what story could he tell though the same now he was really stuck he didn't know how to begin that had been made clear over and over so should he start from the end the sunset the death the working out of conflict the stay tuned for next time it will be just as exciting the adventure you know the drill.

Awful. Still as someone said it would pass the time. Are you having fun are you liking this is this what you had in mind. Below the surface there's another surface surfacing. Now that's better that's something else. He should make up characters to kill. He should be braver and commit himself. The sanitorium on the mountain is lovely this time of year we hear.

Why begin at all then. There's nothing better to do. Nothing worse he would have said but was pretty sure someone had said that too. So many saying it's a noble enterprise it's a calling it's all that matters convincing themselves. Would the world be worse for the absence for his idleness continued. He could put them together the signs that was no problem he did it every day to eat for shelter he knew how the pranks were pulled.

That was it or part of it then. He'd read the many books and understood the mechanics mostly. The ventriloquism. Where though was the need the spark he'd heard was necessary and believed it without much evidence he was easily convinced of some things that much was apparent. He dove and came up empty his own scathingest commentator. Doing doing done in. This is moving along moving along nicely because it's moving at all. Wipe the tear.

He'd show them. Now that was a noble motivation. Those who knew didn't know. He was fond of announcing secret plans he didn't have. Nonexistent strategies that could not be revealed at this time. Or any. He hated not having the last card to play so pretended his sleeve was full. So no one ever saw his arms the one with the tattoo or the one without. You just had to believe in the tattoo he wouldn't show it to you. Like the classified information.

All right this then what was he to do when the fascinations struck. Only follow only remember. There was a rug in the dining room he loved to lie on when he was smaller under the table. You could do two things on the rug. You could follow its spiraling cord multicolorful round and round from the out edge whith your finger spiralling inward till you reached the end of the weave. Then you could trace it back out again. That was one thing. The other thing you could do was lie on your back and look up at the underside of the table that you only ever otherwise saw at mealtimes the top of.

Three things. If you were very still and observant and the day was cloudless you would look at the dustmotes drifting through the sunlight coming in through the window. You could blow out very hard and watch them swirl and disappear because they were so small and moving so fast until they reappeared again and drifted again. Then you could do that again. Jesus wants me for a Sunbeam you're toast. That was a joke that came much later.