Moving on

Moving on slowly. Ach, listen, this is a whole dark hole in a whole mother light for there are few things so good as peat and clay.

Getting going is one thing. Remembering what it was, three minutes before a simple distraction moves us away. What was it? What was it I wanted so much to say? Blogspot.

Blogspot. I am looking for a quieter machine, something that might let me think in peace. I don't know why it goes on and on like this, I don't know if there is something very wrong or if it's just a silly thing. I don't know what's going on.

I do think that a life can't be done in one and there is usefulness in redrafting and I'm happy that there are people willing to supply the simple things to make life work. I mean, bakers. Where do they come from? Bakersville. There are millions upon millions of ants.

There are more of us than I thought. Maybe twenty or even twenty one. We are doing well. We play games and we talk a lot about how our lives are affecting one another. It's wierd, I meet people here who are fatter than an ant. I meet some people who can talk nonsense on purpose and I even met one man who could do a headstand. Such things were unheard of in ancient Egypt, totally unheard of.

Who knows if there are detective novels.

I hope nothing goes wrong. I'm sure it won't, but even so I still can't help hoping. I'm swinging over a waterfall right now and it's scary. The rope is not so strong, not so strong as all that. As all that which has come before. It's hard to speak in tongues. I've got a jar left but it isn't mine?