I’d like to think that, after, you know, 40+ years of writing, I’m in control of my words, but actually I’d say that mostly I’m better at letting go of control and letting things happen and I don’t know where the words come from, anyway. I don’t know where anything comes from. I drove around Rockford last night a little bit, going to the vet to pick up my dog’s ashes, then to Farm and Fleet, and then to Woodsman’s, and I thought about my route, and I steered the car, and I made it / maneuvered around other drivers and obstacles – and there’s a lot that I did and I was conscious of some of it, but I wasn’t conscious of all of it. I was thinking last night and this morning about what’s going on in my mind as I drive – I mean, yeah, I AM looking for other cars, looking for turns, etc. – I know where to turn by visual clues, you know – I’m NOT following explicit instructions (either on paper or in my head – it’s actually pretty intimidating to drive like that, where I’m following the Google Map voice instructions or whatever).
[From school journal of 7 Feb. 2023]
MonkeyMoonMachine 