Quite a few disconnected items again crowd into my writer's persona; leaving
in the wake something out of a not so distant past,but in that lunatic 19th century somehow.
Statements:At the age of 38 the situation begins to clear up. Mind you,there's
a story here inside a dimension which only study can clear off...
Prepositions by the handful...
Reading Balzac rathair cool but so many pages!
Singular pronouncements,local statements versus the competition from Universal
ones...
Typical regrets as a variety of college memories. We sound off from the sixties.
And so how about examples from those times,in a student drug-daze...
Yesterday: forasmuch it makes sense,activates something like those days of
mine at college...As a result some cringing. Just one of those average bad deals.
My bedazzled goofiness had me going in circles...
Noticed how I am using the word average with increasing frequency. Doubtless
in honor of my own personal average,which I discovered long about 1969.
What I would rather do now is forget the entire thing,which is a sell out anyhow
Speaking my mind seems a bit crazy.
Without further ado to relieve oneself of intellectual responsibility...
My scrapebook for the future on schedule.
I am down to the barest minimum,though I go on talking and confessing. What if
anything is to be regained by repeating mistaken answers?
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