Not written for that reason—or for any reason, really

1:32 p.m. Back after a nap and yet more time reading online.

I guess what I needed to say was to finish my point—which I didn’t finish yesterday—about wholeness.

It’s overcast, but last time I was outside a couple hours ago, it was hot and humid. I could use to check my garden for Japanese beetles—a type of scarab beetle, I read at Wikipedia this morning. I’m not sure why I’ve had these writing sessions today and then have been distracted away. Maybe I am done with writing, but let’s see.

(Da__ and new kid are bouncing a ball (softball sized?) at each other while L__ looks on and Du__ totes a blue-and-orange gun toy about half his own height. The C__ car is back and E__’s out in a mint-green dress, with her brunette hair that looks like a chocolate chip in the mint ice cream.)

Wholeness—OK, you know, maybe there’s not a lot to add about wholeness.

It’s a still day. I could go outside and glue (a gopher—a rodent, probably a gopher—scampered west past the deck doors just now) my “Damn We’re Good” t-shirt to cardboard. I could stiffen the corrugated cardboard with chip/press/cardboard, but nah, do it for cheap—recycled materials, you know?

I thought this morning that I should add wholeness to my Book 2017 intro—and my intro, of course, would be an example of a text written to convey a message to an audience, while the rest of that book (made of journals) would not have been written for that reason—or for any reason, really.

[From journal of Weds., 19 July 2017, Journal 256, page 65-6]

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