It really is all in a day’s work—all of it.
Maybe you can relate to this, but it is as if I am thinking all thoughts about everything all the time. The neurons are fairly zipping across synapses at a high speed and apparently, there is an entire network up there. Rarely are things muddled or clogged. Part of that network is also thinking sequentially to deliver mail while all of that is going on.
I think there is a one small part too that is considering safety for others and myself while driving and that squirrel who ran across the road and then stalled was using all of his network because he just froze, but my safety segment took note and caused my left foot to press lightly on the brake (I drive with two feet always, sometimes simultaneously pressing the gas and the brake for some finesse) and as I looked him in the eyes, the squirrel knew what to do. He is still nuts, happily.
And I have quite a segment devoted to music, and it is not partitioned off. Actually, none of it is completely partitioned, but there are some areas that cross paths with my heart that are sorta sealed off from all the rest but they intersect with every facet of my being, even beyond the network. There is a lot of constant activity in both of those areas.
Something unresolved, I think, causes a strange feeling in the back of the network, just below my ears. It is like the network is devoting particular attention to that area, but it is like a traffic circle with no outlet. Oh well.
I like this:
Flow, caught in motion:
I like it.
I like the way that this looks:
I guess I like a lot of things. I could go on like this for days, even without sleep but then it might eventually become incoherent. It’s not, is it?
Well, there is more work to do. I gotta get some sleep because tomorrow it begins again . . .
All of it.
All the time.
All photographs © 2018 Timothy Waugh