it's done much more. it's done much. it's still doing much. i don't understand all of what it's done, or is doing, much of the time, but when i notice that it seems to be doing something i also notice me trying to notice how.
in a string of cavalier associativities the other morning at work, arthur and i started with some version of howdy and ended with me singing, at a higher pitch than i'd have expected to come out of me, how do you do what you do to me?
it was probably high because you have to jump an octave up right off.
jesus, everything calls me back to it. not to the arthur. to the other thing.
there's a lovely smokey smell coming in the window, with the sudden cool strong evening breeze. i hope it's not some house on fire in the distance, me here enjoying it, swirling in my nostrils.
after sunday detroit tigers games, kids run the bases. some kids doing it are so little they probably couldn't walk at all just a coupla months ago. sometimes grown people run with babies in their arms.
i can quite imagine wanting to give a child an experience i wasn't particularly interested in garnering for myself.