Eh. Find Something Salvagable.

When you feel the sudden pain, covered by the thick blanket of sickness the same way you remember making the bed with your mother and father – they, on either side of the bed, would toss the comforter in the air wide like a fisherman's net between them, and you would dive under the blanket, feel that rich animal sense of cover, transportation. The pain is like that. But different, sinister, you've never had a chance to become familiar with this as you have the other worlds you've discovered between birth and this sudden strike of the sick sick pain. Yes it's different and you look around if you happen to stand amongst a crowd or even friends. They can't understand, there's no time to tell them about the blanket and the other worlds and now this sudden pain a moving of self to something which should not be.

And that's why I retreat now, hide in a bathroom, walk onto the porch. Pain is something private. Each soul moved the same way, each soul reborn under that sick fading sign into a new life.

Is there any word to describe a muscle becoming ready, tensing, jack-rabbiting forward? You could call this life in complete. A circle. And I can feel the decay at the end, that moment that we writing types all call life. That experience of dying just as we begin. The scribes are always in that moment so we bring that moment to fullest life in our writing.

Call it Frankenstein.

Chew on the toothpick as a retrospective moment. If you were directing a film of my life as a writer, this would be the important bit we call characterization. I like it. Fuck depth. Let's stick a toothpick in the whole thing and call it being, life, character.

So I wonder if that man resting under the holly bush felt alive. He had walked for at least eight miles – we spoke about spending the night in a barn inhabited by all the creatures of Redwall. And I meanwhile was only climbing two miles up and two miles down. The soft wide middle sheltered by umbrella trees like Cedar, Pine, Holly, and Rock which is not a tree but nevertheless grows to protect us. I feel a favored Son at this moment as I climb through marked footholds to a height which displays an undead life composed of air and the collishiones between cloud and rock.